Shades of Konoha: Onyx and Jade
by Giada Luna
Summary: Series of oneshots featuring Sasuke and Sakura. Chapter 8: Lullaby Canon universe before Sasuke and Sakura return to Konoha.
1. Where Lovers Live

_Lots of oneshots floating in my mind lately; figured I might as well have a place to put them._

_Where Lovers Live: quick poetic sketch of Sasuke and Sakura. _

* * *

**Shades of Konoha: Onyx and Jade  
Where Lovers Live**

* * *

Lovers live in the ends of their fingertips

Bonds are built from the molecular level up, one neurotransmission a time, and forged by the tentative first touches when the impossibly shallow ridges of fingerprints trail over the millions of tiny creases in the skin, numbering each follicle and freckle and edge and plane and curve.

The body is mapped and traced and memorized and archived as fingers again and again follow the paths guided by a compass buried somewhere subcutaneously and attuned to the magnetic north of the lover's primordial self.

These explorations are cataloged in a dermal archive as the lover's journey winds down new and familiar routes – correcting the course and adapting as time weathers and sharpens and alters the terrain.

The paths are carved into the skin, and both lovers know them well, and can trace them like a scattering of iron shavings aligning to the electromagnetic bands of a charged piece of metal.

Lovers live in the ether between them.

They follow their own migratory pattern to return to one another, to seek out the other's hand and wind fingers in a familiar completion of part to whole.

They charge the air between their skin and transmit complex messages in that second before contact

Lovers fill the spaces and gaps left between fingers and sighs and heartbeats and knuckles and thighs.

He has been told that when lovers change partners, they first try to follow the topographical map memorized in previous explorations of a different terra firma, learning where the map is different and what routes are open, welcomed or forbidden and eventually new paths are learned and memorized and forged and recorded.

He can't comment on that – he has only had one lover, and she was the only one long before his lips brushed against hers for the first time,  
before he touched that sacred spot on her forehead,  
before he finally bared his naked and battered and fractured soul in an apology,  
before he caught her against him, saved from the void by her sheer will,  
before he watched with masked pride as she obliterated the very earth in battle,  
before the warmth and pressure of her slight body lingered in his arms long after he placed her on the bench that fateful night in Konoha,  
before he felt her hair brush over his fingers as he laid her somewhere in safety before chasing after the sand demon,  
before her arms banded around him to chase the cursed black marks from his skin,  
before she held him to her, bone-achingly relieved but still shaking from the fear that he died in a hail of ice and senbon.

It was always her.

She lived in the small spaces in his skin even when he tried to forget everything and everyone.

Her face still haunted the edges of his mental periphery just as her name was hidden in the texture of his tongue even when it remained unspoken as he trained in the den of snakes and darkness.

She was always just beyond that space just beyond his fingers.

But now, she is warm and pliant and there is no space between them.

She fills the every empty – the ridges in his fingers, the gap in his arms, the vast nothing of a once-wretched heart, the silence in his days, and the space between the mattress and the press of his body.

He traces the curve of her cheek, the arc of her back, the planes of her stomach and the valley between her breasts.

He travels now familiar routes that make her pulse race, her face flush, her eyes smolder, and her body arch against his and cry out his name.

He fills her as she fills him, and he is whole.

He holds his entire world close to him in sleep, and breathes her in. She is under his palms and in his skin, sharing his breath, and his warmth.

She is never far from him, even when he has to be far from her.

Even though he is never more at home than when her hand is in hers, he knows.

Lovers live in the ends of their fingertips.

And she is always at the end of his.

As he is always at the end of hers.

And no amount of distance or time or even death can ever come between them again.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_ \- GL_


	2. The Question

_an: I don't own Naruto. Quick fluff story for Valentine's Day. _

* * *

**The Question**

* * *

"Did you always love Mama?"

The question came from nowhere, and he looked up at his daughter with slightly raised eyebrows, and impossibly dark eyes.

It was a look that has frightened many, but to her was Papa's 'Go on/Explain/Oh?' face.

"I mean, I know you love her now," she pushed her glasses up her nose, "but when did you start loving Mama?"

Sasuke held his daughter's gaze steadily, noting how the eye color might be his, but the shape and the inquisitiveness in her look was absolutely her mother's.

"When did you meet Mama," his daughter elaborated, used to having to fill in her father's silences with more specific questions to get a response.

"Academy," he said, although she already knew that.

"You were in the same class" she stated.

"Hn."

"Did you love her then?"

Sasuke paused.

He had been told that daughters liked to hear that their fathers and mothers had always been in love and together. Sasuke, though, knew that 1) he didn't have an ordinary daughter 2) he would never lie to her.

"No," he said honestly, then added, "not yet."

She pursed her lips and thought about that. "I guess you would've been really little when you started there, so that makes sense. Did she talk to you much?"

Sasuke thought back to that brief window of time when he was at the academy and his family was still alive. He remembered his brother sometimes walking him home from school, or sitting with his mother while he did his homework or…well. It hadn't been very long, but he had many memories from that time. Sakura was no more than a quiet pink-haired girl then – it was before Ino had shown her to act with confidence.

He sometimes suspected that his wife might have learned that particular lesson a little _too_ well.

"Not at first," he finally answered.

"Why?"

Sasuke shrugged. "She tells me that she was shy."

Sarada looked at her father with a skeptical expression straight out of his arsenal. "Mama. Shy," she repeated flatly.

Sasuke smirked. "Ah. That was before your Aunt Ino got a hold of her. She talked more after that."

"Oh, I know that story," she said dismissively. "That is the ribbon one. I still can't see Mama being _shy,_ though," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It didn't last long," he said dryly, and they shared a knowing smirk.

Truth be told, Sasuke knew that even if insecurity was no longer an issue for her, his wife had a shy streak. The people currently in her life were either from her village or met when she was under the pressure of war, or worked with her at the hospital, so Sarada had never seen her mother at a disadvantage with others. But Sasuke knew that she could still be shy when meeting new people or approaching others for the first time. When they had first married – when people still whispered, and eyed him distrustfully, and lamented her fate with knowing sighs, and questioned her judgment while passing their own - she had been the first to step in and stand up for them both in no uncertain terms.

She was definitely not shy then.

"So when she stopped being shy…?"

"She talked too much," he shrugged.

"What about?"

"Nothing, really," Sasuke sighed. "She tried to get my attention."

"Did it work?"

"No."

That wasn't strictly true. He paid enough attention to know who she was and that she was smart. And annoying. That was when he first thought of her as annoying, but not as he later thought of that word as it applied to her.

Then again, he had worked at ignoring her – didn't that mean she had caught his attention?

"Why not?" Sarada frowned, feeling defensive of her mother.

Sasuke thought about that. "I was focused on other things."

That was the simple explanation – and much quicker than 'I wanted to kill my brother for murdering our family and that was my one and only obsession for years?'

"Well, what about when you were on your genin team?" Sarada asked. "What then."

"Still annoying," he said, "but better. And not as bad as Naruto"

"How better?"

"Genin don't know what it is to be a shinobi. It takes time."

Sarada arched an eyebrow at him. "_All_ genin?"

"Yes," he admitted. "All genin." Sakura didn't understand the sacrifices that would come, or the loneliness or the pain. Naruto didn't know that he could be accepted and excel. Sasuke didn't know he could work as a team or care for anyone the way he had for his family. They all had things they didn't know.

"Was Mama strong?"

"Not the way she is now," Sasuke answered. "That came with training. But…" he thought about it. "She always had the strength inside. She just had to find it."

Sakura had been the balance between him and Naruto. As formidable as it became, her greatest strength wasn't in her fists. It had been somewhere much deeper than that.

"Training with Tsunade-sama," Sarada said. "While you were gone."

"Hn."

He ignored the dull ache between his ribs that always accompanied that particular phrase. 'While you were gone' covered a lot of territory in his life, even now.

"So when did you fall in love with Mama?"

Sasuke arched an eyebrow at his daughter.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious," she shrugged. "I wanted to know if your answer was the same as Mama's."

"And was it?" Sasuke asked smugly, knowing full well that Sakura had always loved him.

"Yes. She didn't always love you, either."

Sasuke wondered why Sakura had lied to their daughter. Perhaps it was to dissuade her from putting too much attachment on any feelings she might have for anyone at this point in her young life; especially feelings for any blond-haired-blue-eyed-mini-baka-clones of the just-as-baka-Hokage.

Sarada had abandoned her interrogation shortly after that, but it replayed in Sasuke's mind several times.

His daughter had been in bed a full two-and-a-half hours when the familiar creak of the front door told him his wife was from the hospital. Even after what he knew when she left was going to be along shift, and he learned when she returned had been a particularly grueling one, she still greeted him with that smile she saved just for him.

She sank into her chair at the table, gratefully, and wrapped her fingers around the mug of tea he put in front of her. "Thank you, Sasuke-kun," she sighed happily. "I needed this after today. Well," she flicked a glance at the clock, "technically yesterday. Which I guess," she fished something out of hiding, "means I can give you this."

She handed him the box, and he opened the lid. "I know you don't care for sweets," she sipped her tea, "but I made that batch more savory."

He looked at the Honmei-choco in his hands, and the corners of his mouth titled in mischief.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"This isn't like the time you tried to make the chocolate healthy, is it?" he asked blandly.

"No," she smiled wryly. "I learned my lesson after that giri-choco disaster a few years ago." When Sasuke looked like he still didn't quite believe her, she sighed. "Alright, fine. I asked Chōji for help, okay? And you should count yourself lucky," she added. "I can at least cook. Karui almost killed Chōji the first time she made a meal." Sakura put a finger to her chin. "Come to think of it, she has never had to cook since. Maybe that was less of a mistake and more of a brilliant tactical decision."

"Not so brilliant that it didn't land them both in the hospital," Sasuke observed.

"Good point," she agreed. "But to address your concerns, no, that is normal Honmei-choco made to be less sweet. I'll make your onigiri tomorrow," she yawned before correcting herself. "I mean today." She blinked rapidly and dabbed at her watering eyes.

"Did you always love me?"

Sakura was quiet a moment, taken aback by the sudden shift in topic more than the question itself. Even tired, her mind was quick to catch up.

"Been speaking with Sarada?" she asked knowingly. He didn't need to answer – she could see it in his face. She took a long sip of her tea and put her chin in her hand.

"No," she said thoughtfully. "I didn't."

She knew the edges in his silence and how to navigate them.

"I thought I did," she admitted. "I thought I knew a lot of things when we were genin. I knew I was a great, full-fledged kunoichi. I knew Naruto was an idiot. I knew I loved you and someday you would be wildly in love with me and sweep me off of my feet. I knew Kakashi-sensei was a lazy pervert."

She chuckled and sipped her tea before leaning back comfortably in her chair and looking up with an amused sigh.

"And then we actually started taking missions. I learned I had a hell of a long way to go before I became anything close to resembling a great kunoichi. I learned that Naruto could be smarter and stronger than all of us. I learned our Sensei was one of the most skilled shinobi to ever come out of Konoha." Her eyes roved over him. "I learned that you were darker and angrier and lonelier than I could ever understand. We all had things to learn, and we learned them together. Somewhere along the line I learned that I didn't love you. Not then. Not really."

Sasuke arched an eyebrow, clearly recalling her many advances and requests for dates, and attempts for his attention, and that confession….

"Love is so much bigger than I thought it was. I didn't know what it was to love anyone," she said holding his gaze.

"When?" he asked.

She furrowed her brow. "I'm not sure exactly" she admitted. "The night you left," she stared into her teacup, "I felt my heart breaking. I must have loved you before that night, but even then, I had so much to learn." She looked up at him. "I was learning what it was to love you, Sasuke-kun. Even when you were away." She held his gaze. "It was a much harder and longer lesson than I could have ever anticipated."

Sasuke didn't know he was gripping the back of the chair until he released it to take her outstretched hand and sit beside her. "It was a long road to walk, Sasuke-kun," she thumbed over his knuckles. "For both of us. I learned to stand up and be strong. I learned about you and not the idea of you. I learned to be lonely." She reached for his cheek, caressing it gently. "That might have been the hardest lesson."

Sasuke understood the depth of that sentiment far better than anyone but she realized.

"I didn't always love you," she admitted, "because I had to learn who _you_ were. You were so desperate to keep everyone away." She dropped her hand to his, and smiled patiently at him. "You were kind of a jerk," she teased.

"And you were-"

"Annoying," she interrupted, eyes dancing. "So I've heard. And now?"

"You're still annoying," he smirked.

"And you can still be a jerk," she smiled, "but you can also be pretty wonderful." She tried to hide her yawn, but had to press the back of her hand to her mouth.

"Hn."

Sasuke stood and took her teacup before ushering her to the shower. He washed the few dishes and tidied up. He padded back to their room, and was waiting for her when she came to bed. She slipped under the covers and snuggled up to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"I love when you are home," she murmured happily, smile widening when he kissed the seal on her forehead.

"Sakura."

"Mm?" she asked, eyes drifting closed.

"I love you."

"I know, Sasuke-kun," she laughed lightly. "I love you, too. Maybe I didn't always," she wrapped her arm around him, "But I will always. I promise." She yawned widely. "I'll show you first thing in the morning before Sarada has to be awake."

He smirked, absently trailing fingertips along the satin of her arm. "I look forward to it."

"Sasuke-kun?" she asked, sleep settling heavy over her.

"Hm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," she kissed his throat. "Be mine?"

"Always, Sakura."

His wife snuggled into his shoulder and was soon deep in a pleasant sleep.

As Sasuke drifted off to sleep, he realized he never really answered Sarada's question.

He didn't know when he had first loved Sakura.

He didn't know when she had first loved him.

It didn't matter.

From the moment he held his wife and his new daughter in his arms, Sasuke stopped looking to the past and started looking to the future.

His wife.

His daughter.

His family.

They were what mattered.

And he loved them both.

Always.

* * *

_Thanks for reading, friends.  
Be my Valentine? I have chocolate!  
-Giada_


	3. A Bridge of Bonds and Scars

A/N: _Oneshot of Sasuke and Sakura's time after the war, but before they are a 'couple.'_

* * *

**A Bridge of Bonds and Scars**

* * *

1\. The Patient

* * *

He isn't in the village often, but when he is, he sees her without fail. Tsunade and Shizune tried to shield her at first, but it quickly became pointless. No one knows if he insists that she be the attending physician, or if she insists on being the attending physician, but everyone knows not to interfere.

If it is something minor and she is in surgery, he will wait. If it is something major – which it rarely is – he will still wait. Usually one of the braver medics or nurses will alert Tsunade or Sakura or Shizune on those rare occasions that it appears he needs more immediate attention. They all know he will not let them near.

Eventually, he bypasses the registration desk entirely and goes directly to a certain room in a less trafficked wing of the hospital where they tend to more serious or dangerous patients.

She always knows when he has arrived by the shift in the air pressure, and the curious pricking of electricity along her spine.

If she can't go to him right away, she sends word.

He always waits.

When she arrives, her visits are professional and efficient.

Sasuke appreciates this.

He has never been one for conversation, and he understands that she has a job to do.

Still, she manages to inquire after him in the only way she can.

"What on earth did you do this time?" she mutters, waiting for an explanation for his latest set of injuries which includes a rather spectacular puncture wound that is probably a snake bite (that would have killed someone else). She arches an eyebrow and asks, "Investigating near Oto again?"

He holds her gaze and his silence.

Sakura sighs. "That is a pertinent question," she says patiently, snapping on her gloves. "I have many anti-venoms, and this bite could have come from several snakes. I'm not worried about it killing you, but in case you failed to notice," she sits on a low stool and pushes away his tattered pants leg, "it is eating away at your skin."

She traces careful fingers across the bruised and mottled flesh on his leg, her chakra glowing around her glove. "That tells me this could have come from several different snakes," she continues. "Since you have a very high tolerance to any kind of venom, I can't check for normal symptoms on you. This level of damage to your soft tissue borders on putrefaction," she frowns and reaches for gauze to dab at the ugly wound.

"There are only a few venoms I know of that could do something like this to someone like you," she says, throwing away the gauze and getting a fresh pad. "All of them can continue to rot the flesh, if not treated properly. Two of them result in death 99% of the time. One can cause extensive and permanent nerve damage. One particularly nasty venom targets the brain, and can drive the victim insane."

She flicks a glance up at him before returning her attention to his leg with a shrug.

"It's simple," she says, pressing a probing finger into the angry wound, and ignoring the tightening of his jaw. "I need to know what I am dealing with. You can either wait for analysis – which will take a significant amount of time, and shortens our window of treatment, which, judging from the state your leg, is swiftly closing," she warns with another jab of her finger followed by swabbing at something green oozing from his skin. "Or," she looks up at him, pointedly, "you can give me a geographic area and I can be finished inside of five minutes." She shrugs again. "Your choice."

She feels rather than hears him sigh.

"Near Oto," he allows.

"Now was that so hard?" she asks, her sarcasm packaged and delivered with a sweet smile. She rolls the stool back, and heads to her cabinets. "Thank you for your cooperation," she says over her shoulder. "Now I can do my job."

She had already narrowed down to the suspects, but knowing the bite happened near Oto allows her to pinpoint the culprit in minutes. She finishes cleaning the wound and administers the anti-venom, putting several vials aside to send with him, each labeled with general geographic location. She then mends the flesh, satisfied that the compounds that had been rotting it are now neutralized, and won't undo her efforts.

"I don't know where you will go next," she says matter-of-factly as she tosses away her gloves and washes her hands, "and I know your resistance to these kinds of injuries is very high. Still, it is better to be cautious. Take the general antidotes I am sending with you. Shizune and I worked them up using some of Chiyo-baasama's research."

She seals the articles in a scroll and hands them to him. He gives a nod of thanks as his fingers barely brush hers.

She watches him thoughtfully.

"In this hospital," she looks around the room, "my clearance is over that of any mission. To put it blunty? I outrank you. You can, and have to give me information that will help me treat you."

"Understood," he says, rising to his feet.

"Sasuke…"

He stops to look down at her expectantly.

Her jade eyes rove over his face as she gathers her thoughts on the back of her tongue. In the end, she offers a simple:

"Be careful."

A slow smirk creeps across his face.

"Is that an order?"

"You're no good with orders," she snorts.

The smirk widens.

"Just what I need," she mutters. "One more insubordinate subordinate. Just try not to get yourself killed."

His smirk melts into something softer, and his fingers tap the diamond on her forehead, offering a familiar assurance.

"I'll see you next time."

* * *

2\. The Doctor

* * *

She is still haunted by echoes and memories of the past.

She is still reconciling the Boy that Left with the One that Returned, and her memories alternate between bitter goodbyes, betrayals, and soul-deep reconciliations.

He is different now that his hate has been dispelled.

She isn't sure what she knows anymore.

But she doesn't doubt her heart.

So when the past whispers, and old specters of fear try to claw at her heart, she shoves them away.

Time quiets the ghosts, however, and Sakura begins to hear more from the files and charts in her possession than the whispers of the past.

His medical history is telling his story from examination to examination, and in the little space on her sheet where she records her notes.

Minor changes present themselves at every new meeting.

He is more careful in his movements so as not to startle her, and she is more conservative in hers, maintaining the appropriate clinical distance and demeanor.

He occasionally tells her a word or two about something he has seen, or brings her a sample of a plant or remedy he has stumbled across in his travels.

She charts roughly where he has been and makes sure his immunizations are current, and that his medicinal supplies are always well stocked before he leaves.

When he leaves, she never knows when he will return, and has stopped guessing when it might be.

But in her bones, she knows he will return, and that gives her heart some peace.

* * *

3\. Medical History

* * *

She is concentrating as she mends the damage done by a poison dipped kunai that was raked across his chest.

He sits in silence as she extracts the poison from the wound and has a medic take it to Shizune for analysis.

Neither mentions the time she intended to attack him with a similar weapon, and how he tried to kill her, and how Naruto both saved her and got cut by the poisoned blade.

But they both remember.

He watches her closely as she puts the sterile white pad on the wound slashing across his chest before binding it with gauze. She asks him if it is too tight, if he can move, if he can breathe, if there is discomfort from the binding, and he answers all with a negative. Satisfied, she puts a seal on the binding and activates it.

"I can't heal the wound fully until the last traces of poison flush out of your system," she explains, reaching for his chart and making notes. That seal will keep the bindings in place, and when the last of the poison is gone, it will release the small dose of healing chakra needed to complete the job. Whole process should take two – three days at most. Assuming you don't get poisoned again in the meantime," she checks something off and he smirks at her.

"I'll try not to," he shrugs, and she looks up at him sharply, but her retort dies on her tongue when she sees the hint of amusement in his mismatched eyes.

"Hn," she replies, and looks back to the chart, but he sees the smirk pulling at her lips.

Their appointments fall into a pattern.

In their years apart they forged their own stories and lives, and as much as they each would like to ask the other about it, they don't.

They can't.

She can't really take the time to discuss her work or her life outside of it.

He can't share particulars about his missions.

She asks general questions.

He gives general information.

She can't ask what her heart secretly wants to know about his condition. Is he alone? Is he safe? Will he return? Where will he go next, and how worried should she be?

So she asks how he is feeling, is that a new scar, does he need more antidotes, and should she stock his medical supplies.

He can't ask about her life outside of the hospital. Is she happy? Does she still overuse her own chakra when healing others, despite his warnings to her? Does she still wait for word of his coming, and who does she spend her time with? Where does her heart live, and is it lost to him?

So he observes intently and listens, occasionally asking carefully worded questions.

They can't talk about the past or the future.

They only have the present.

And in that present, she reads and interprets his archive of scars like one solving a mystery.

He can discuss injuries and scars.

Those all have their stories.

He can tell her those.

Carefully she builds a patient profile, and catalogues the details.

She pieces together his clipped accounts and the physiological evidence to form her prognoses.

They can't ask about the past.

But they are building a history together, just the same.

* * *

4\. Progress

* * *

His next visit comes on the heels of his exposure a parasite that feeds on chakra. There is no real cause for alarm; his vast stores are hardly depleted. However, the parasite injects its victims with a compound that blocks the chakra pathways temporarily, so even though he has vast amounts of chakra, he can't utilize it without risking damage to his chakra network.

Sakura calls Hinata in to help that day. The compound has deteriorated considerably, but the chakra flow is slow to return. After a preemptive apology to Sasuke and his gruff nod of consent, Hinata uses her Gentle Fist techniques to forcibly restore the chakra flow. She helps Sakura heal the immediate bruising, and she apologizes again.

He doesn't say it, but Sasuke is surprised by how strong the soft spoken kunoichi has become, and thinks that perhaps she can balance out Naruto after all.

Naruto stops by and ribs Sasuke for being beat up by his girlfriend.

Sakura chuckles, and Sasuke glowers.

But there is no malice there, and when he leaves, there is no tension.

Naruto slings an arm around Sakura's shoulders.

"He'll be back," he says good-naturedly.

"I know," Sakura sighs. "He is due for his next round of immunizations in three months."

"Maybe," Naruto says, ruffling her hair. "But that's not why he'll return."

* * *

5\. Scars

* * *

Days slide into months.

Appointments are dutifully recorded, and reported, and added to the thickening file.

She has other patients, of course, and is often called out of the hospital or into the field.

It isn't unusual for her to be called away.

It's just routine.

The time she is summoned to his side, though, that is frightening.

Naruto senses the trouble nearby and collects her with two words.

"It's Sasuke."

They arrive in time to take out the remaining attackers and both her and Naruto catch him before he collapses to the ground. They go to a nearby cave, and Naruto has to help her to remove his bloodied and battered clothing. Both Naruto and the clones he made to help are pleased that she is able to keep him mostly covered (they don't need to see that) and work quickly.

When he comes to, Sasuke is warm, in clean, loose clothing, and she is carefully working with a mortar and pestle near the fire. He turns his head to watch her – eyes burning bright, concentration absolute.

She feels his eyes on her and looks up sharply. She gingerly puts down her supplies before crossing to help him sit up and drink some water.

He gives a nod of thanks and, after determining he is alright, she silently returns to her task.

"What are you doing?"

His deep voice, while not loud, is a stark contrast to the muffled silence of their impromptu shelter.

"I had a surgery earlier today," she says quietly. "I am lower on chakra than normal, and I don't want to tap into this," she flicks a glance to her marking on her forehead "unless we need to. This will help until tomorrow. I'll be up to full reserves by then."

It is another ten minutes before they speak again.

"I'm going to tend the wounds on your back and chest," she informs him, bringing her supplies over to his bedroll and sitting back on her heels. "Can you remove your shirt?"

He unties the belt holding the soft cotton of his shirt closed. Wordlessly, she helps him to remove it.

She then folds the garment neatly and places it to the side before turning to attend to his wounds. He had been unconscious when they first arrived at their makeshift shelter, so he hadn't registered when both she and Naruto washed and disinfected his wounds.

"This won't do more than sting," she promises, applying the paste carefully.

It doesn't sting at all, really.

It is cooling and soothing.

Well.

The paste is.

Her touch is another story altogether.

The little bit of chakra she used to infuse the paste makes it solidify into thin plasters, sealing the wounds.

Naruto returns, and stokes the fire, and seals the cave.

"Y'know, Teme," he says, watching Sakura carefully apply the paste. "If you really wanted a good fight, I'm not that hard to find. Or is it that you wanted me and Sakura-chan to join in, like old times."

"Hn." Sasuke replies, but there is a hint of a smile on his face. Sakura continues to tend to his wounds while he briefly tells Naruto what had happened on his mission to put him in that predicament. Naruto leaves a clone and goes to look for any survivors in the hopes of tracking them back to their encampment.

Sakura looks over Sasuke critically.

"Ribs," she directs, and he maneuvers himself to face her. Her fingers are strong and gentle on the gashes across his side, and linger when she detects an older, poorly healed injury. "I'll tend to that tomorrow," she promises. She peers at another wound, gently rubbing her thumb over it.

"Scar."

"What from," she asks, turning her attention to the other wounds flecking and striping his chest.

"That one was from the Land of Water."

Sakura pauses, but keeps her face impassive. "From that time?" she asks.

"No," he shakes his head. "Those have mostly faded, now."

"Good," she breathes, carefully sealing the wound. With every scar, her heart whispers a prayer.

That he hadn't been alone.

That he hadn't been in too much pain.

She offers marrow-deep gratitude that the scar left a mark but did not take his life.

He explains various scars and wounds, and she thumbs over a few, inspecting them. She carefully traces a thin line to the cut on his cheek and on his forehead and over his eyebrow.

"That about does it," she says, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She snaps the gloves off, and seals up the salve. "Let me help you," she nods to the folded shirt. It is a light cotton garment; the kind used for patients in the hospital and in the field. He slips on the shirt and wraps it around himself, one sleeve hanging limply at his side. She helps tie the garment into place, ignoring the warmth of his skin under her fingertips.

"Your injuries on your legs were minor," she assures him, putting her hands in her lap, and nodding to where his legs are covered.

Sasuke looks under the covers and frowns.

"These are not my pants."

"Your pants are in tatters," Sakura shrugs. "These are from the hospital. Naruto and some clones took care of getting you changed.

She laughs when he fails to suppress his shudder.

He watches her pack away her supplies before inspecting the small cauldron of soup.

"You can go get Naruto," she says over her shoulder.

The clone straightens up from where he has been slouched in boredom at the entrance.

"On it!" he says cheerily, and dispels.

Sakura chuckles to herself and fills a bowl with the warm, nourishing meal.

She makes sure Sasuke is comfortable before handing him his bowl, and getting her own.

They eat in silence for a while.

"I don't think any of those wounds will scar," she offers, stirring her soup. "So no adding to the collection this time."

"What a pity," he says stonily. "All of that work and nothing to show for it."

"Yeah, well," she snorts into her soup, "don't put quite so much effort into maiming yourself next time. Naruto and I can't always be there."

Sasuke gives a dry "ah" but they both know that they will always be there for him.

Later that night, she changes a few bandages, eyeing scars they have not yet discussed.

"Another time," he offers.

She holds his gaze, before smiling softly.

"Another time," she agrees.

It isn't long before they are all sleeping in their own bedrolls.

Except Sasuke isn't sleeping.

He is listening to the susurrus of Sakura's breathing, and the erratic bursts of Naruto's snoring.

A familiar peace settles over him from the days of genin missions and Team Seven.

And in that stillness, he allows himself to marvel at the obvious.

They came for him.

He knows he shouldn't be surprised, but his chest still warms at the thought.

He watches Sakura.

'Naruto and I can't always be there,' might what she says, but she is wrong.

They have always been with him, even when even he was certain he had forgotten every bond he had in this life, and had left them all behind.

Naruto always knew better – Sasuke doesn't have to tell him.

Sakura is a different story.

He hasn't been able to tell her.

He glances down at his bandaged body.

Maybe after a few more scars.

And a few more stories.

Maybe then, he'll tell her.

* * *

6\. Next time

* * *

The wound is at the top of his incomplete left arm.

The remains of the arrow are removed, and she handles him with what a civilian might call tenderness, but what she insists is professional care.

Her hand glows green and hovers over the skin as it knits back together. She carefully applies a salve with two gloved fingers, focusing on the position of the wound on his arm, and absently noting that had it cut the brachial artery, this might be a different session entirely.

He watches her, and can still see her healing both he and Naruto at the end of the war.

He has never replaced that arm, for reasons he refuses to articulate.

That is personal history.

"Have you experienced any phantom pain?" she asks, her features carefully neutral as she tends to the one injury he has never let her completely heal.

"No," he says. "Not for a while now."

A ghost of a smile hovers on her lips.

"Good."

Nothing more is said on the subject, and they both ignore the phantoms that linger in sharp memories of a life before atonement.

He watches her put the supplies away. She occasionally jots something on her notepad while muttering about what needs to be restocked.

She looks down at two small, squat jars in her hand.

"Will you be leaving immediately?" she asks.

"As soon as I am able."

"Then here," she takes one of the jars and hands it to him. "Put that salve on evening and morning for the next five days, at the very least. Ten days would be even better. You can use it as often as you need; it stimulates the chakra flow and helps keep out infection."

He takes the jar in his hands and inspects it closely while she checks the time.

She turns and grabs the white coat hanging on a peg on the wall. She yanks one arm into the sleeve, and fishes behind herself for the other.

The dangling end of her coat is suddenly pulled across her shoulders, and she freezes in place. She slowly looks over her shoulder to see Sasuke where she left him, but she can still feel lingering warm pressure of a hand.

She turns slowly, working her arm into the remaining sleeve.

"I will leave in the morning," he says without preamble. "At first light."

"I'll be here," she shrugs. "Come by if you need your bandages seen to."

He frowns.

"Shouldn't you be home at that hour?"

She shakes her head.

"I am needed here. I'll probably take a nap on the cot in my office before taking up the rest of my shift." She chuckles. "Don't look at me like that," she chides him gently. "I can handle it."

He still looks displeased.

"If it makes you feel better," she says with an impish tilt to her smile, "you can bring me some food or strong tea when you come for your morning visit. I'll change your wrappings, and you can see with your own eyes that I'm a big, tough, kunoichi before you get on your way."

She ignores his disapproval as she gathers up her things and heads for the door. "See you in the morning?"

He stands and crosses to the door. "In the morning," he mutters begrudgingly.

He opens the door for her, and she arches an eyebrow at his irritation.

"Don't exhaust yourself this time," he warns.

"I won't," she rolls her eyes. "I know what I'm doing, Sasuke."

He doesn't reply, but she smiles just the same. She is paged, so she waves hastily before walking briskly down the hall, leaving him to see himself out.

It is well after midnight when she finally drags herself to her office to snag few quick hours of sleep. She checks the time and sets an alarm before immediately passing out.

Even though she has slept well and taken a shower, her fatigue doesn't escape his notice.

"When does your shift end?" he asks as she re-bandages his arm.

"This afternoon," she says, swallowing a yawn.

"And will you get some rest?" he asks, an edge in his tone.

"Yeah," she half smiles. "You will leave right from here, won't you?"

"Ah," he says, watching her precise movements as she tends to his arm.

She ties off the last bandage and smooths it on his arm. "Finished," she says softly. She washes her hands and replaces the supplies and busies herself while he replaces his shirt and cloak.

She turns to face him, and finds him still sitting, perched on the edge of the examination table, and watching her.

She raises her eyebrows at him, but he just shakes his head slowly. "You really are annoying."

She narrows her eyes to retort, but stops short at the feeling of his fingers tapping her forehead.

She looks into his eyes then, and knows what he will say before he says it.

"I know," she says with a hollow cheerfulness. "Next time."

"Three weeks," he says, his fingertips sliding gently down her temple, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Be ready."

"Ready..." she asks, puzzled. "Ready for what?"

"Pack light," he instructs. "Seal sturdy clothes for winter in your scrolls, and any medicines or antidotes you feel you might need. I do not know how long we will be gone."

It takes her a moment to process this information.

Three weeks.

Pack light.

_We_.

"A mission?" she asks neutrally, trying to quell any hope from fluttering in her heart.

"Of sorts," he allows.

And suddenly, she understands.

"I'll be ready."

Whether it is luck or a carefully executed plan, she cannot say, but her workload at the hospital shifts dramatically. She finds her schedule is clearing. The day before she expects him, Tsunade stops by her office before leaving.

"Good night, Sakura," her mentor says, before stopping to catch her eye. "Don't forget, I expect regular reports... no matter what your mission is."

"Understood," she says, and the words are easier than goodbye.

He comes to his examination uninjured.

He leaves Konoha three days later with no idea when he will return.

But this time, he has learned from his mistakes.

He does not leave in anger.

He does not leave with lead in his heart and veins.

He does not leave to search for what will fill his heart.

This time, when he leaves, she is by his side.

And his heart is full.

And they are done writing their history.

This time, they are writing their future.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!  
_\- _Giada_


	4. Necromancer

Prompt for SasuSaku month Day 1  
Modern police department AU. (Might look a little like my 'Double or Nothing' AU...)

* * *

**Necromancer**

* * *

The afternoon rain showers did nothing to deter the intense humidity that persisted into the night. There were no curious onlookers, or intrepid journalists in this run-down neighborhood Konoha would rather forget; the only visitors to this end of town came with the flash of red and blue lights and the stretch of crime scene tape. The low, incessant hum of the few functioning streetlights was eerie and unwelcoming in the heavy summer air. Beyond the crisscrossing of yellow tape, the pitted pavement was a scattershot of small puddles swirling with blood and the sheen of rain-leached oil. The forensic team wasted no time, busily weaving between the bodies draped in white.

Detective Uchiha Sasuke took in the grim spectacle, hands on hips, eyes sharp as they darted around the carnage.

"Shoot-out," the camera snapped behind him as the forensic photographer arranged his carefully numbered cards and cataloged the macabre scene. "Gang related, I'd wager."

"Hn," was his only – and customary - reply.

"Hey Teme," a familiar voice called from behind him. "You're gonna want to see this."

Sasuke gave a nod to the photographer and walked down the alley to the open door of the warehouse.

"Tenten's waiting for you," the other man let the detective go in first. "Akamaru found something inside."

"Is Inuzuka in there?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Drugs?"

"That doesn't even half cover it," Naruto frowned.

The large, white dog was sitting patiently at the end of the long hallway, keeping vigil.

"Good boy," Sasuke murmured, absently patting the top of the dog's head. "Inuzuka. What do we have here?"

"Shit ton of drugs down that end," Kiba jerked his head, indicating the hall that continued beyond Akamaru's watch. "But the stuff you're gonna want to see is in here."

Sasuke and Naruto followed Kiba around the corner to where his partner was crouched on the balls of her feet. She had a medical mask and gloves on as she carefully picked through the carnage of the trashed room.

"Uchiha's here, Ten," Kiba called over to her. She motioned the detective forward.

"Here," Kiba handed him a mask. "Some weird dust shit all over the scene, and I smelled some kind of gas when I came in."

Sasuke knew better than to question the Inuzuka's nose, and accepted the mask. He crossed to the uniformed officer, who stood to greet him.

"What are we looking at here," he surveyed the office in upheaval, and the sizable body under the white cover. "Gang related?"

"This isn't a gang thing, Uchiha," she said, point blank. "That shoot out – that was something different than all of this."

"Evidence?"

"First off, I saw the weapons downstairs. Pretty common stuff. But this," she used a long silver skewer to lift part of the cloth away from the victim, "this is a whole different ball game."

He eyed the tattoo on the victim's chest – more specifically the multiple and clearly intentional series of shallow cuts sliced through it.

"You've seen this before?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "Long time ago." She put the cloth back. "But a bunch of this is new. I'd bet my entire weapons collection that this," she ran a gloved finger over the desk, and it came back coated in a super fine yellow powder, "isn't dust."

"Hence the masks?"

"Yeah. And Inuzuka smelled gas. Whoever this is, is playing the game on a whole other level."

They exchanged grim looks, both thinking of the only crime organization that might go to these extremes.

"C'mon," she sighed. "I'll show you the rest."

An hour later, Kiba brought them both a cup of coffee.

"You okay?" he asked Tenten.

"Yeah," she gave him a quick smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Why don't you get the car started. I'll be out in a second."

He nodded, leaving his partner with the detective.

"How much does he know about your past?" Sasuke asked.

"Not as much as he's going to know after this case," she grunted. "But look at the bright side," she gave him a wicked grin.

"You get to go talk to the Necromancer."

* * *

Several of the techs had yet to get used to ins and outs of their new boss.

They knew that she ran a very tight ship and was beyond smart. They knew that she'd trained directly under Dr. Senju Tsunade – which was unheard of - and that no one knew their shit better. They had recently learned that changing the music in the lab was a great way to get a sharp reprimand, and that it was within her power to make a grown man cry. She was tougher and smarter and calmer and braver than any of them.

Reconciling that with playful green eyes and bright pink hair took some getting used to.

But after only six months as the lead forensic investigator, Dr. Haruno Sakura earned a new title.

They called her "The Necromancer," because she had a way of making the dead talk.

It had been a particularly grim shift, and she was humming along to Taylor Swift as she examined the body on the table.

She heard the door swing open, but she didn't bother to look up.

"What are you listening to?"

"It's been a shit day," she said, half over her shoulder. "If you've got nothing better to do than complain about my music, you can take it elsewhere."

"As a matter of fact," he crossed into her line of sight, holding up a folder, "I have quite a few better things to do."

"Detective Uchiha," she blinked great, green eyes at him in surprise before flicking her gaze to the clock. "So it's true. Vampires don't sleep."

He arched one ebony eyebrow.

"Says the woman redefining the concept of the graveyard shift."

"Arguably, all of my shifts are graveyard shifts," she shrugged. "If they aren't, then my patient is probably in the wrong department."

"Not for long," he snorted, nodding to the way she was excavating a bullet from the open chest cavity of one of the bodies from the alley. "Got a minute?" he held up the folder.

"Sure," she put down the scalpel and snapped off her gloves. She washed her hands before leaving her goggles and white coat behind and leading him into her office.

"So," she held out her hand for the folder. "What have you brought me this time?"

"Evidence from the crime scene as well as some information from one of our… informants."

The way he hesitated on the word 'informant' drew her attention, but a quick glance at his stoic features was enough to tell her he wasn't going to elaborate.

"I see," she mused. "This is far beyond what I will need for my end of things," she carefully flipped through the pictures and notes.

"I know," he leaned back in his seat. "I wanted to compare what we found with your findings, and then bounce some ideas off of you."

"Ideas?" she asked, still studying the pictures.

"We think the last body wasn't just a killing. It was an execution."

"An execution?" her eyebrows raised as she looked up at him. "By whom?"

"That is where we aren't sure," he grimaced. "The eradicating of the tattoo – the mutilation of parts of the body – it fits what we know about a crime organization based out of Oto, but doesn't quite fall in line with their M.O..

"And what is their M.O.?" she asked.

"They tattoo their members," the detective nodded to the file. "But that tattoo isn't one of theirs. They also make a point to target the heart, but there was no obvious wounding in that area. Finally, their agents sign their kills. If this is a signature," he held up his hands, "then we don't know the handwriting."

She sat back in her seat and steepled her fingers, thinking.

Abruptly she snapped the file shut, pulled another out of her desk, and stacked them together. She got to her feet, pausing only to shove the files against his chest.

"Let's go."

Dr. Haruno left him to follow her into the morgue where she quickly pulled on her coat and protective glasses.

"Gloves and coat," she nodded to the spare coat hanging on a peg.

"Bossy, much?" he muttered, but complied.

She snapped open the drawer containing the body of the victim, and one of her staff helped her get set up on an examining table.

"This isn't the original tattoo," she said, examining the flesh. "It's been covered."

"You can tell that?" he asked. "From the skin?"

"From having a tattoo artist for a friend," she smirked. "I know a corrected tattoo when I see one. I had one of the techs take pictures and run them through some software to try and layer the images. They're in that file I handed you."

"I think you mean shoved at me," he opened the folder.

As usual, she ignored his commentary.

"Looks like the original tattoo was a musical note?"

"That would fit the profile we expect," Sasuke allowed.

"These are really precise cuts," she ran a gloved finger over the skin. "They look like they were made with a scalpel…I wonder…" She checked her records, and called over to her assistant. "Can you go down to Dr. Aburame? I want to know if those tox screens and other tests he ran for me have come back."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, and darted out of the morgue.

"There was a fine yellow powder in the victim's nostrils, mouth, and airways. I'm hoping that Dr. Aburame has something for me on that – as well as the blood work."

"What are you looking for, specifically?" he asked.

"I think this victim was tortured," she frowned. "These cuts," she indicated the markings on the tattoo, "were made while the victim was still alive. Most of them are shallow. Precise. They were made to intimidate."

"And the deeper ones?"

She met his eyes grimly.

"To punish."

She lifted up the arm of the body and ran gloved fingers around the wrists. "The victim was restrained, but didn't struggle. That leads me to believe he was sedated or, more probably, poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Sasuke mused. "Are you sure?"

"Mm," she nodded. "And if I'm not mistaken-"

"Dr. Haruno?"

Sakura turned around to her tech who came rushing over with the report. "Dr. Aburame says you were right about the time of death and the means. He'll send up the rest of the results in a moment."

"Did he cross reference with the sample I gave him?" she asked.

"Yes," the tech nodded enthusiastically. "He says it's a match."

"What's a match," the detective darted dark eyes between the two.

"Leave the results and go back to Dr. Aburame," she ignored him (again). "Tell me the minute he finishes."

"Right!" the tech gave an enthusiastic thumbs up before dashing back down the hall.

"Your victim was tortured," she affirmed. "The poison that was administered allows for consciousness to remain, but the body is essentially paralyzed."

"So that is why the victim was restrained but did not struggle."

"Precisely," she agreed. "And what's more, while this poison affects all muscle tissue, but it targets the right atrium of the heart – the sinoatrial node specifically. Essentially, it interrupts the impulse for the heart to fire."

"But there are fail-safes, aren't there?" the detective furrowed his brow. "Won't other parts of the heart compensate?"

"I see you've been studying your basic cardiac anatomy," she grinned. "Yes, under normal circumstances a misbehaving SA node won't immediately result in death. Unfortunately, the poison causes a sort of neural confusion, interrupting the signals to the fail-safes as well. Eventually, the victim's heart stops firing entirely. I suspect this fine powder was introduced to complicate respiration, making the victim's system work harder than the heart could handle. All in all," she shook her head, "a very cruel way to die."

"So the heart _was_ targeted," he mused. "All of the other marks on the body,"

"Were for show," she affirmed. "And if I don't miss my guess," she looked at the file over his shoulder, "your killer did sign the hit."

"How?" he asked, turning his head, to find her close enough for him to see the faint outline of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"This poison is rare," she grimaced. "Exceedingly. I've only heard of it in one case study, and that was during my time in Suna. At the time, there was only one other medical student privy to that research."

"Oh?" he asked.

"He was brilliant, no question," she crossed her arms. "Brilliant and ambitious. His research took precedence over everything, and that included ethical concerns. He was several years my senior, but the rumors were that after several unsuccessful attempts to get his research funded, he went underground." She met his eyes. Something sparked in her features, and she stood a little straighter.

Stepping away, she went to the he supplies, returning with gauze, cotton balls, and iodine. He watched in silence as she dabbed the iodine into the groves and surface of scored flesh. When she finished, she took a wide square of gauze and swiped it across the patch of skin, removing any excess.

When she stepped away, there was a very clear pattern formed by the deeper cuts in the skin. There, in sickly yellow brown, the kanji clearly spelled one word. "Kabuto."

"That's him," she said softly. "Yakushi Kabuto."

"It's more than that," Sasuke tightened his jaw. "It's Orochimaru."

Dr. Haruno hadn't been part of the department for long, but even she had heard of the tenured university professor that had been found guilty of conducting horrific human experiments.

"Orochimaru?" her eyes widened impossibly. "I thought he was dead."

"I need to know anything you can tell me about this victim," he hurried out of his coat and gloves, eyes dark and serious. "Anything you can figure out about the victim, his ties to Kabuto, anything that can help us – no matter how insignificant it seems."

"Yes," she nodded, sharply. "I'll get right on it."

"I have to call the Captain. Can I keep this?" he held up the file she'd given him.

"Take it. It's my spare, and I had a feeling you'd be by."

"Prepared as always," he dug in his pocket for his phone, but his subtle praise did not go unappreciated. He turned to exit the morgue, but stopped at the door.

"Looks like we'll be working together, Dr. Haruno," a faint smile played across his serious features.

"I look forward to it, Detective Uchiha."

The doors swung closed behind him, leaving her with a corpse and a slew of unanswered questions.

"Alright, big guy," the 'Necromancer' squared her shoulders. "Talk to me."


	5. Asylum

Prompt for Day 2 SasuSaku month 2016. This one got away from me, so I split it in two, and worked on it for the week.

* * *

**Asylum**

* * *

**i.**

The bedroom is small but brightly lit, and unlike her last one, it has a window. She hums to herself as she moves around the tiny apartment. It isn't much, really. The kitchenette isn't completely functional - not since that power surge on move-in day that also claimed the life of her trusty electric kettle. She immediately puts a call into the super, but he tells her unfortunately, he can't do anything about it for at least a week or two. He brings her up an old microwave that must've belonged to some long-deceased relative, but she takes it gratefully, and with a twist of a dial, it dutifully heats the water for her nightly cup of tea on the wibbly-wobbly turntable. Also, somewhere in the move she has lost the sharp set of knives that used to sit on that beautiful granite counter right next to her –

A familiar sizzle of pain shoots across the backs of her eyes, and she closes them tightly and sucks in air.

But it is gone in a minute, and she goes back to folding her laundry.

She is at the neighbor's – the woman befriended her as soon as she moved into the building, and seems to always do her laundry at the same time. They left the communal laundry area together and returned to her apartment to chat and have a cup of tea.

A small timer dings on the counter.

She looks up in excitement, and smiles wide.

"Brownies are done!"

She rushes over to the oven – her neighbor is sweet enough to let her use the kitchen when she gets the itch to bake or to make a meal rather than get carry out from …. She blinks away that strange pain again – carry out from that place that makes the- Another shot of pain, and she turns her thoughts back to the baking.

She hums as she puts the brownies out to cool and sets out the sifter and the powdered sugar.

"You are so patient," her neighbor looks over her shoulder at the brownies. "How do you not just carve them up and eat them hot?"

"They taste better this way," she shrugs. "And if you put the powdered sugar on too soon, it will melt."

And per her usual ritual, she allows the brownies to sit undisturbed until they are cool to the touch. She slices them into precise squares before liberally dusting them with the powdered sugar and carefully arranging a small plate for each of them.

"Mm," her neighbor hums in appreciation. "When you're right, you're right. These are delicious, Sakura!"

"I'm glad you think so," she tucks candy pink hair behind her ears. "It's like they say, Kin – good things come to those who wait."

.

.

.

**ii.**

It doesn't matter how long she lets the water run – it never gets quite as hot as she likes.

"Some idiot turned the water heater up too high last year and burned themselves," Kin snorts. "Now the super keeps it regulated to avoid a law suit."

"At least there is always plenty of it," Sakura shrugs, finding, as she always does, the positive in the situation. "And it doesn't seem to affect the laundry."

"There is that," Kin allows.

"I wonder if the super would let me hang the sheets outside to dry," her gaze trails wistfully out of the window and down to the gardens.

"Why would you want to do that," Kin quirks an eyebrow.

"It's just…" she tries to find the words. "In the summer, it's nice to have sheets fresh off of the line. They smell like fresh air and sunshine and…" she trails off. Her senses fill with a comforting potpourri of earth and forest and sharp night air. Pine and mountain air and the distant sound of a stream winding over rocks and under the giant fallen tree. She can hear the snap of sheets outside of her window as they dance on the breeze, and the clean scent of linen warmed by the sunlight filtering through the glass, and the feeling of snuggling deeper into her pillow to steal a few more blissful moments before they have to get out of bed and-

The wave of pain crashes over her, slamming into her consciousness and churning her senses and for a split second she thinks she is drowning. She gasps in a shuddering breath before swallowing hard, eyes watering and ears ringing.

She shakes as she rapidly blinks back the pressure of tears, trying to salvage something of the shifting ground below her as the pain ebbs away as suddenly as it appeared, leaving only dulled senses and confusion.

When she looks up to Kin, her eyes are shifting from glassy to focused.

"Sakura?" Kin peers at her, intently. "Are you alright."

And she smells nothing but the hint of antiseptic she can't seem to get out of her nose even as she thinks '_Something is wrong.'_

"I…I'm fine," she gives a brisk shake of her shoulders. "Fine," she says more confidently.

"Are you sure?"

Sakura meets the dark eyes, ready to reassure her, and does well to hide the miniscule hitch in her breath.

The woman searching her features is clearly looking for some kind of affirmation… but the concern on her face does not extend beyond the mere expression of it.

She plasters the smile on immediately. "Yes," she gives a small laugh. "Just got lost in thought. What were we talking about?"

Kin opens her mouth and then closes it again. "I was asking what you want for dinner. My treat."

Sakura smiles broader and gushes over the kindness of her neighbor, and the pain fades, and it isn't until she is alone and in bed and on the edge of sleep that she thinks that maybe she and Kin had been talking about something other than dinner.

.

.

.

**iii.**

The dream starts out the same. She is dazed and half asleep and groggy. Her limbs are too heavy to be moving on their own and while lead slides in her veins her consciousness is light and disconnected.

In the dream she is always waking from this half sleep with glimpses the world around her in slow, half blinks. She thinks there are voices, but they are muffled and incoherent and not as important as what she knows she will see when she can finally open her eyes.

Why she dreams of him behind glass, she cannot fathom.

But he is always there, sitting impossibly still. She thinks she might try and speak with him, but her tongue is too heavy and she does not think he will respond even if she does.

He is in plain, white clothes that remind her of something between scrubs and pajamas. He sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded under his chin, a curtain of too-long raven head hair falling over his face. His profile is sharp. Pale. The curve of his lips is almost too beautiful in a face she can't quite see, the line of his jaw hard, his air arrogant and aloof.

She thinks that the first time she had the dream she saw his eyes.

She thinks that they were black and wide with surprise and anger as he slammed his hands on the glass and called out her name.

But surely that was not the case.

For now, every time she sees him, he is still.

"Do you know him?"

The voice floats above her and she can't quite make out who is speaking.

"Know him?" she murmurs in return.

And she knows the voice is waiting, and she watches him more closely, and there is something minute – a twitch in his arm, a tension in his jaw – something, and it is so startlingly breathtakingly familiar she feels her heart lurch.

But it is something else.

A warning.

There is a vague memory of a name on the tip of her tongue – a name that if spoken brings the blinding pain and the terror and the swirl of black eyes to red.

"I…" she falters, her eyebrows twitching together. And she feels both an insane need to assure the man that she does know him and she does remember and she could never forget as well as the need to let him know that she understands what he is telling her and to follow his instructions.

In the end she settles for "I'm not sure…" and then, before she knows where the words come from, she adds. "It's… annoying."

"That's alright," the voice is smug. "Go back to sleep, Sakura."

And she is confused because she is certain she is already asleep and dreaming, but there is a twinge of pride even as she feels thin metal pierce her arm and the blossoming cold under her skin because she thinks perhaps she has managed a narrow escape.

She only has a fraction of a second before the dream ends and the nothingness returns.

It might be a trick of the light or the whim of a hopeful heart, but she is certain that the corner of his mouth twitches in approval.

Her heart soars and there are names and words and memories that float up and are just about to break the surface of her consciousness.

And then the darkness swallows her whole.

.

.

.

**iv.**

She grows herbs in her kitchen window. She confides in Kin that there is something about her fingers in the soil that calms her – that makes her sometimes-headaches (Kin has noticed them and has always been quick to offer to help) become less frequent.

"I wonder if there is room," Sakura murmurs, looking out the window.

"Room for what?" Kin asks, glancing up from her knitting.

Sakura doesn't know why the sight is always ridiculous to her – something about the yarn draped on the long needles is incongruously funny to her – like watching someone crochet with an amnio-hook.

"In the garden," she nods to the open window. "Just for a few herbs and things," she adds hastily. "I don't want to disturb the landscaping."

"I can ask the super if you want," Kin offers. "But why a garden?"

"Just to have a few more things on hand – an herb or two; maybe some flowers. I don't know," she shrugs. "Something about it just makes me feel peaceful."

"I'll walk you to your job at the library," she says. "I'll ask on my way home from work."

"Thanks," Sakura smiles, and some part of her wonders when she started working at the library.

.

.

.

**v.**

Kin really is the best.

Several days later she knocks on Sakura's door with the okay from the super and a bag full of seed packets.

That day Sakura finds her place in the communal garden – which she can't quite remember visiting before, although Kin assures her she has – is wonderful.

She buries small, nimble fingers in the dirt and relishes the feel of the sun on her face. She comes to work in the garden every day, and has even started taking on some of the general maintenance duties.

The songbirds that flutter overhead make her smile, and she takes a moment to soak it all in.

She puts gloved hands on her hips and smiles up at the sun. She doesn't mind the soil flecking her arms and legs around her tank top and shorts, and the earth is cool on her bare feet.

A bird perches in the tree, and she copies its whistles.

"It likes you."

She turns around quickly, surprised to see a large man not far from her. He is sitting quietly on a bench in the shade, and she wonders that someone so large can be so easily undetected.

The bird flutters from the tree to rest in the oversized, upturned palm.

"Looks like it likes you, too," she smiles.

She pulls her gloves off and walks across the grass barefoot.

"Sakura" she holds out a hand and watches as his engulfs her own.

"Jugo."

.

.

.

**vi.**

She supposes her job at the library is going well – there isn't anything that sticks out in her mind to tell her otherwise.

Jugo is gentle and kind and good company.

"You are good for me," she tells him one day, gathering a handful of blooms.

"How do you mean?" he asks, sitting and watching quietly.

"You make me calm," she twirls a blossom in her fingers. "At peace. Sometimes there is noise in my head, and out here, in the garden – it goes away."

She glances over at him and then looks back to her flowers with a sheepish smile. "Guess that sounds kind of silly."

"No."

And something in his voice – something kind and knowing and deep – draws her eyes.

"I knew someone once," he furrows his brows. "A friend. He helped to keep me calm. If that is something that I can do for you," his eyes rove over her gently. "Then I am glad."

Sakura invites Jugo to come over for dinner, but it is several weeks before he can accept.

He seems too large in her small apartment, and he shifts nervously in his chair.

She thinks he has something to say, and there is a nervous energy in his usual calm.

"Jugo, what is it?" she asks, pouring the tea.

He looks relieved at the cup and doesn't wait for it to cool.

"I have… a favor to ask," he begins nervously.

"Sure, Jugo," she smiles. "I'm happy to help, if I can."

Jugo stiffens in his seat before squirming with a grimace.

At her confused expression, he blushes, and holds open his jacket.

Sakura's smile is immediate and she squeals with delight when he reveals a sleek cat curled up in a makeshift inner pocket.

"This is Hina," he says fondly. "I have her brother Denka in my apartment. Sometimes I have to be away at nights. I wondered if they could stay with you now and then?"

"Oh, Jugo, I'd love that! When did you get them?"

"A…" he frowns trying to remember. "A while ago,…?"

And Sakura knows that expression and is sympathetic to one trying to retrieve a stubborn memory.

"I'd love the company," she holds out her hand for Hina to sniff.

"They disappear sometimes," Jugo tells her. "They go to hunt and wander the gardens - but they always come back."

She strokes the smooth, soft fur, and thinks this surely isn't the first time she has seen this cat. Perhaps she has noticed it in the gardens.

"Come by any time, Hina," she says playfully, and the cat blinks its eyes and smiles.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**vii.**

It's been a few days since she last saw Jugo, and Hina has made herself at home. She has her own litter pan in Sakura's apartment, and has taken to staying with her at night. Denka floats in and out, but Hina has become quite attached to Sakura. Sakura, in turn, entertains the idea that the cat expresses this regard by not using the litter pan, as there is never anything to clean. She thinks she has heard the toilet flush in the middle of the night, but supposes that is only her mind playing tricks on her.

It does that now and then.

She sometimes thinks that she has left something on the counter, only to find it gone. She can't recall her work week, yet Kin assures her it is the weekend. She doesn't remember going to the market, but there is always food and evidence that she has shopped. Kin brings Sakura the book that she says she saw her eyeing in the market.

"The book seller had a good deal, so I brought it back for you," she hands it over. "He said to drop by any time."

And Sakura thanks her, and can't bring herself to admit she has no recollection of this bookseller or any of these conversations.

Kin is supposed to come over for a cup of tea. Hina is twitching around the apartment, staying closer to her than usual. She winds between Sakura's legs as she opens the door.

"Sorry," Sakura scoops up Hina when he almost trips Kin. "I think she's missing Jugo. Have you seen him lately?"

"He's working nights this week," Kin says sympathetically. "I'm sure he'll be back in the gardens next week." She reaches to pet Hina, but the cat makes an unfriendly grumbling in her throat.

The kettle whistles.

"I'll… make the tea." Kin eyes the cat warily.

"Be nice to our guest, Hina," Sakura scolds, and places the cat gently on the floor. She joins Kin in the kitchen and gets down two plates – she tried her hand at making scones last night – or was it the night before?- and they turned out rather well.

Kin sets their tea to the side to let it steep.

Her cellphone rings, and she looks at the screen with a flush.

"You mind if I take this in the hall?" she asks.

Sakura's smile is sly. "It's a boy, isn't it?" she teases.

"Shut up, Sakura," Kin grumbles, but she is trying not to smile.

Sakura laughs and waves her away.

"Don't wait on the tea," Kin practically bounces to the door. "I might, um, be a while."

"Fine, fine," Sakura sighs dramatically. "Details when you get back."

Kin smiles and scurries out of the door, her voice a hopeful, "Hello?"

Sakura leans her hip against the counter and chuckles. She reaches for her tea, but Hina mewls loudly, demanding attention. She jumps gracefully onto the counter, purring loudly and shoving her head into Sakura's hand.

"Alright, alright," she laughs softly, happy to give the cat attention.

After about five minutes, she decides the tea is done enough and scoops the tea bag out with a spoon. She wraps the string around the bag to wring it out against the spoon ('Get every last drop!' Kin always says) before tossing it into the bin.

But Hina is insistent.

As Sakura reaches for the mug, Hina puts herself in the way, shoving her hand away with her head.

"What's gotten into you, Hina?"

She tries to reach around the cat for the mug, and the cat swats her with a velveted paw.

She sits in front of the tea and curls her tail around it, narrowing her eyes.

"Don't drink the tea, Sakura."

Sakura blinks several times at the cat.

She laughs suddenly and nervously.

"Wow, I must be tired," she reaches over the cat for the mug. "Why would a cat talk, much less tell me to-"

But Hina rams the side of her body against Sakura's hand, forcing her to bobble the mug into the sink. She squeaks in surprise, and tries to catch the mug, but it slips through the fingers of one hand to crash against the divide between the halves of the sink. She reflexively follows through in trying to catch the mug, but her hand closes on the jagged edge of the shattered ceramic.

This time she yelps in pain as the shard slices deep across her palm. A stream of blood follows and she instinctively thrusts her hand under the faucet and runs the water.

"Sakura?" Kin comes hurrying back in. "What happened?"

Sakura shoots a look over her shoulder at Kin before inspecting her palm again, but her breath stills in her chest.

The line of blood – deep and gushing just a second ago has all but closed, and there is just the barest hint of a warm, green light as the rest of the wound knits together and disappears completely. By the time Kin sees it, there is barely a nick in the skin, and the blood has all washed down the sink.

"Sakura, are you alright?" she asks, eyes darting from the other woman's palm to the shattered mug in the sink and then back to the palm.

"Fine," she laughs nervously. "I just startled myself.

Kin shuts off the water and yanks the kitchen towel off of the counter, pressing it into Sakura's palm.  
"Are you hurt?"

"No," Sakura's expression is both apologetic and sheepish. "I'm not hurt. I'm just clumsy."

"Well, I'm glad you are okay," Kin flicks a nervous glance to the jumble of white ceramic in the sink. "How about I make you a fresh cup of tea."

Sakura has an irrational urge to snatch her hand back and shout 'No!' but she just shakes her head. "I…I was just washing up the cup," she stumbles over the words. "I already finished the tea."

"Oh," Kin is relieved. "That's alright then. Maybe something else to go with the scones?"

"Just water," Sakura smiles weakly.

Kin fills a plastic glass for her and cleans up the ceramic. They share their scones, and Sakura hides her agitation behind smiles and bites of pastry.

After Kin leaves, she realizes the shards of the mug aren't in her garbage – meaning either she didn't drop them, or Kin took them with her. But the empty teabag is in the bin, and covered by several paper towels – one of which is pink with the drops of blood that diffused through it.

Sakura stares into the trash, her mouth half open as if waiting for an explanation to fall from her lips.

But nothing comes – nothing but shallowed breaths and more confusion. She stares at the two teabags, deciding to inspect them more closely.

For the first time, she notices the tags are ever so slightly different.

dsfThat isn't surprising, really – she has a large stash of tea, and Kin must've picked a different one than her.

She studies the tags carefully. On a whim, she snaps the tags off of the tea bags, and then throws everything else away.

The dream comes back that night.

But the voices are sharper this time.

"And these are all of the pieces of the mug?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did she sustain any injury?"

"I don't think so. Maybe just a nick on her palm."

Sakura feels her arm being lifted as someone examines her hand. "It is gone now," the voice is steady and calm. "Unsurprising." And the voice clearly smiles. "Remarkable even."

Someone runs a thumb over her palm and she struggles to see who it is.

Her eyes are at less than half mast, and she can't turn her head.

And he is sitting on the edge of the bed, angled differently.

There is a smug, amused chuckle.

"You see?" the voice of the person holding her hand changes tone. "It is possible to hurt her – for her to forget everything that she is."

It takes her a moment to register the next sensation.

Whoever this person is, he is pressing a kiss into her palm. She feels her focus shift, and for the first time she catches the reflection in the glass.

The chapped, unpleasant lips on her palm must belong to the man with the glasses, and the other voice to the person whose reflection is distorted, but whose voice is familiar. She feels him smile against her palm, and she wishes she could snatch her hand away.

And she feels helpless, and confused, and has never noticed these things in the dream.

And she meets her own eyes in the glass, but then, they can't be hers. They are too green – too bright – and there is a diamond inked into the flesh above them. She stares in disconnected disorientation, and her focus shifts only when she realizes she can see more of his face.

He is angled toward her as he sits on the bed, and she can't decide if it is his position that has changed, or hers relative to his. He is calm, even though there is tension coiled in the sinew of his arms. And she thinks he would radiate killing intent at the man kissing her palm, but instead the aura dancing against her own is consciously, and soothingly calm.

And he catches her eyes.

His are dark and bottomless, and one eyebrow gives the smallest of small twitches. And she feels like perhaps they share some secret, and that whoever this new person is to the dream is - whatever victory he thinks he has claimed – it is hollow.

And she wants so desperately to reach out to him, but the caress of his chakra against hers is familiar and intimate and undetected by the others.

For all of his intensity, his message is just a whisper across her consciousness.

"_It won't be long now. Stay strong."__  
_

_._

_._

_._

**viii.**

Her dreams do not usually linger beyond her first few moments of lucidity.

That is why she is surprised by the phantasm hovering just on the edge of her consciousness, a refracted recollection distorted by the boundary of dreams. Hina is curled tightly in the space between her stomach and her knees, and Sakura is grateful for the anchor to the waking world.

Slowly – tentatively, she stands and crosses to the mirror in her room. She runs cool fingertips her forehead, blank save for a freckle or two.

Hina is grooming herself as she sits on the dresser. The cat meets Sakura's eyes in the mirror.

"Hina," she whispers, and she thinks there might be notes of tears in her voice. "I have had the strangest dream."

But those words echo in the back of her mind. _"It won't be long now. Stay strong."_

And she thinks sometimes the cat whispers to her and offers assurances. Two nights later, she swears there is a hushed conversation just outside her door before another, lower voice leaves saying "I have to get back to Jugo and the Brat. Watch over her."

But there is never any evidence that anyone has been in or out of the apartment.

She looks through her cabinets. The number of mugs is the same as it has always been – there is no missing, shattered mug.

"I imagined it?" she postulates, studying her cabinets. "Is that possible?"

She turns around and sees Hina swiping a delicate paw over her ear.

"Then again, I thought you were speaking to me the other day," she mutters.

Hina shrugs, Sakura is sure of it, and then goes to scratch at the door. She stands in the doorway, patiently.

Sakura – if for no other reason than curiosity – follows.

And when she sees Jugo on the bench near the garden, her heart fills with relief and gratitude and hope and far more than she can justify for greeting a friend that came off of night shift. But for whatever reason, tears sting at the corners of her eyes, and she flings her arms around his neck, choking back a sob.

"It's so good to see you," she exhales the of a fear unrealized. "Hina missed you," she adds.

Jugo is gentle and silent as he wraps her in a careful hug. The weight of his powerful arms is centering, as is the slow, steady beat of his heart, and she remembers a different time and a different heart thrumming under her fingers and limbs tangled in sheets and her name on lips in an almost too beautiful in a face she can't quite see, and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and feeling his heart rate pick up and he growls her name in a warning of what will inevitably follow which makes her smile smugly, for she knows exactly what she is doing as she traces her fingers lightly across the well-muscled chest to-

The pain lances violently through her entire being , starting as thunderclap behind her eyes and lightning down her spine.

Jugo cradles her tightly when she cries out, anchoring her until the attack subsides, and the tears finally come.

"I'm sorry," she blinks up at him, in the mental fog so like the aftermath of a migraine. "I…I don't know what happened just now."

Jugo pulls a handkerchief from his pocket – something that tugs at another corner of her mind, but she is too worn out to investigate – and presses it into her hand.

"Come," he scoops her up as if she is nothing more than the sparrow that sits on his shoulder. "You need rest."

Her head lolls against his chest as she tries to nod agreement – she knows she won't be able to stay awake for long. Her thoughts are a jumble, and the numbing fog is roiling on the edges of her consciousness.

She feels the familiar softness of her own pillow as Jugo lays her carefully in her bed.

"Jugo?" she asks, reaching out in a sudden fit of panic.

"Rest, Sakura," he assures her. "I'll keep watch."

And she doesn't know why someone that works in a library and drinks tea and hums in a garden finds those words to be so familiar a comfort. She curls her arms around her pillow, and the handkerchief under her nose is redolent of a soothing, familiar scent her heart surely recognizes.

The words slip out just before sleep overtakes her, and she won't remember them later.

"I miss him, Jugo."

The shift of the mattress tells her he is sitting on the floor and leaning against her bed.

"He misses you, too, Sakura."

**.**

**.**

**.**

**ix.**

Two weeks later, Sakura is clutching her basket of laundry and making apologies to Kin. "I'm sorry – I just got really tired. I think I'm going to go back to my place and lie down for a bit."

Kin looks disappointed.

"You sure you don't want a cup of tea first? I've got one that always makes me sleepy."

"Maybe later," she smiles sweetly. "Right now, I just need to rest. Why don't you call that boyfriend of yours," she teases.

"What boyfriend," Kin flushes.

"The one that left that," Sakura taps the base of her own throat, laughing lightly when Kin's hand flies up to cover the evidence. "What's his name again?"

"Zaku," Kin mutters absently.

Sakura stands stock still for a second, eyes glassing over.

"Zaku?" she asks, and something swims to scream and slam palms at the thick glass between her and her subconscious – something ugly and dark and-

"Haku," Kin asserts quickly.

A flash of a face skitters behind her optic nerves, and the monster dives back into the murkiness of her mind.

But it is still there.

"Well, give him a call," Sakura covers a yawn.

"Alright," Kin watches her warily. "If you are sure."

"I'm sure," Sakura nods, and thinks perhaps there is relief and something more self-serving and carnal in the other's departure.

She puts her laundry basket on her table and walks over to her kitchen cabinets. She taps two capsules into her palm and swallows them with water. After that, she closes her bedroom door and slips into the adjoining bathroom. She promptly tosses the two capsules into the toilet, and sits crosslegged on her bathroom rug. She plucks two tampons from the box in the bottom drawer and carefully sides the already opened wrappers off of the cardboard applicators before tipping their contents into two separate piles.

Digging into her pockets, she adds a piece of paper to each and then spreads them out.

She studies them.

She's heard of reading tea-leaves.

She's never heard of reading tea bag tags.

But she scans each and every one of them, not really sure what she is looking for.

One pile of tags are from the cups of tea Kin serves her. The other are from the cups Kin serves herself. There is a hodgepodge of them, and several kinds make it into both pile, but it is the ones that have a cherry blossom that only make it into her pile. She arranges the piles again. Kin never has any with the cherry blossom.

All of the ones Kin served to Sakura are lightly marked in pencil – they are always in the evening.

She has been watching what Kin drinks. She doesn't always finish her tea. Sakura always finishes hers.

She leans her chin in her palm and drums her fingers on her cheek.

It's time, she thinks, to conduct an experiment.

That next afternoon she makes the tea. She puts the mugs out to steep, and steps away, having forgotten something in her room. It is just enough time to see Kin surreptitiously checking the tea-tags.

Sakura sips her tea, watching Kin carefully.

Part way through the conversation, Kin becomes more tired and glassy eyed.

It isn't immediately noticeable, but it is there.

She goes home early that night and naps in the afternoon.

Sakura quietly throws away the teabags.

She repeats the experiment several more times, finally in the early evening at Kin's.

Kin sits on the chair, lost in her knitting.

Sakura takes the tea down from Kin's cupboard and quickly sorts through it. Deftly, she does to Kin's supply what she did to her own. She switches out the tags.

The days begin to become clearer after that.

She stops serving Kin the tea meant for her; instead they drink the same tea, but Sakura's is mislabeled.

Kin's eyes grow sharp again, but there is never any wariness or dawning realization. Sakura teases her about late nights with Haku, and Kin admits it might be the problem.

And yet Sakura wonders if that is where Kin is getting those angry marks on her arms that she tries to hide.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**x.**

Jugo isn't in the garden.

He isn't at his apartment.

Sakura knocks on his door, and tries the knob before shrugging and going to the garden alone.

The next morning she does it again, quietly removing the tiny piece of tape she'd placed between the door and the door frame.

"Jugo is working nights again?"

"Yeah," Kin plucks a slice of apple from the plate. "The rest of this week at least."

"What day is it again?"

"Tuesday," Kin takes another bite of apple.

The next morning she repeats the process.

"Jugo is working nights again?"

"Yeah," Kin hides a smirk behind a mouthful of sliced pear. "The rest of this week at least."

"What day is it again?"

"Tuesday."

Several more 'Tuesday' mornings come and go, and Jugo isn't in the gardens, and he hasn't returned to his apartment – Sakura is sure.

"I feel like celebrating," she says abruptly one morning. "Let's go out for some drinks tonight."

Kin arches an eyebrow.

"What brought this on?"

"I don't know," Sakura shrugs. "I just feel like I'm in a bit of a rut. It…it's the weekend soon, isn't it?" she wrinkles her forehead in confusion.

"Well…yeah," Kin blinks in surprise. "Sure. Sure, it's the weekend. I think you said it was a tough week at the library."

"That must be it," Sakura taps her chin, "Although…it's been a while since I've had anything, and I get tired in the evenings. Maybe going out isn't the best idea."

"You've always been a lightweight," Kin chuckles. "Tell you what. Come over to my place tonight. We'll have a couple drinks, and then it won't be a far walk home."

Sakura grins.

"Perfect."

Quite a bit of liquor has disappeared by the time Kin lets Sakura make the tea. Sakura sets the kettle to boil while Kin fishes out the teabags. Sakura deftly pours the water into the mugs and then sets about helping clean up the kitchen while the tea steeps.

"Let's drink our tea on the couch, shall we?" Sakura puts the mugs on the coffee table, curling up with hers.

Sakura doesn't have to wait long.

Kin is soon staring into space.

"Kin? Did you like the scones?"

"Scones?" Kin's eyebrows draw together before she nods absently. "Yes. Yes they were very nice."

Sakura smiles to herself. There had been no scones. There had been two of 'Sakura's' teabags in the kettle already when she poured the water, making Kin's tea very, very concentrated. Sakura dumped hers and replaced it with water when Kin wasn't looking.

"Kin," she places her mug down. "Where is Jugo."

"Therapy," she mumbles.

"Is he unharmed?"

"Yes," she returns flatly. "He had a relapse. We don't know why. He is better now. They had to keep him close to _him_ until he felt better."

"Is that where Denko – the other cat – has been?"

"Yes," she intones. "Keeps him calm."

"He needs to return to the gardens," Sakura prompts. "It will be good for me. You will arrange it."

"I'll suggest it," she allows, uneasily.

"You'll make it happen," Sakura's smile is innocent, but her eyes spark wickedly. "Because we are such, _such_ close friends."

"I'll make it happen," she agrees.

Sakura's grin is feral.

"Good girl."

* * *

**Continued in the 7.6 prompt: Watch the Queen Conquer**


	6. Watch the Queen Conquer

Second half of 'Asylum'

* * *

**Watch the Queen Conquer**

* * *

**xi.**

He always knew they would be separated.

The plan was that they would get separated.

He hates that plan.

He hates every single fucking thing about this plan, this mission, and this entire fucking situation.

But from the beginning, despite his significant objections, one look at the determination in the set of her shoulders and the fire in her eyes told him that the argument was never one at all.

They were going.

"You don't have to do this, Sakura," Kakashi's voice had been low, and Sasuke knew then he'd already arrived at the same conclusion.

"We have to know how they operate, and I'm your best chance," she had met his eyes fearlessly.

And that was how they got their entire team captured.

And as much as he _hated_ it when she was right about this kind of thing, they ended up exactly where she said they would.

As unlisted patients of the ostensibly charitable Five Kage Memorial Rehabilitation Facility – allegedly constructed to tend to the soldiers and survivors of the war from all nations.

The irony of the tagline 'Providing hope and compassionate care to all who enter,' was not lost on Sasuke.

Neither was hand delivering five very desirable specimens directly to the enemy.

It had almost been six – Hinata had found out at the last minute what Sakura was up to (Sasuke still wasn't sure how) and had volunteered to go with them.

"Naruto won't be told about this mission for several weeks," Kakashi had told her kindly. "If you turn up missing, there isn't anything he won't do to get you back, and that will defeat the purpose."

"There isn't anything he won't do when he finds out that his friends are missing," she countered indicating Sakura and Sasuke. "Until then, the Byakugan can serve as both an incentive and support for the team."

"Right up until Naruto crashes the mission," Sasuke grunted.

"And that is why we need you here," Sakura put a kind but firm hand on her friend's shoulder. "Without us around, you are the only one that can keep Naruto in Konoha. It is too dangerous for him to come this time. The enemy _knows_ Naruto would come for us. The longer he doesn't, the longer they will think our absence has gone undetected."

Sasuke really, _really_, hated when Sakura was right about these kinds of things, and he hated it even more when he actually agreed with her about these kinds of things.

Still, the fact that Naruto hadn't come barreling into the facility to rescue them all was a testament to the Kunoichi's skill and Sakura's foresight.

Sasuke had left a clone just on the periphery of the enemy grounds.

Naruto's clone found him mere days after their 'disappearance.'

"Let me guess," Sasuke had drawled. "You promised not to look for us, but you didn't promise not to send a clone?"

"Tell me what is going on."

Even Sasuke's clone had been surprised by how serious Naruto's had been.

When his clone dispelled, his mind flooded with its accumulated memories.

"I'll trust you, Teme," he'd promised. "But I'm going to be the first one on the mission to come save your sorry ass."

That promise is one of the few comforts he allows himself in this place.

Naruto would never leave his friends behind – and if by some convolution of fate and circumstance Sasuke couldn't save Sakura, then Naruto could and would.

Sometimes it is the only thing keeping him from calling off the mission entirely and getting them all the hell out of there.

He always knew they'd be separated.

He'd been prepared to be separated.

He isn't prepared that first time they wheel her on a gurney outside of his room.

He'd steeled himself against seeing her with physical injury, knowing she might choose to suppress her healing abilities to keep her cover.

He'd even anticipated and trained his mind not to react at seeing her hysterical or frightened.

He isn't prepared to see her be weak.

He isn't prepared to see her in state of semi-consciousness with a twilight sedative coursing through her veins. Those eyes that always find his – that see through to the person no one else can see and hold together the pieces of his fractured soul – do not know him.

And for the first time since he was a child, he knows real, tangible, fear.

He'd jumps up and slams his hands against the thick, chakra infused window, yelling her name – demanding her eyes to see him.

But she doesn't.

His Sharingan activates reflexively, even as her eyes flutter closed, and the diamond on her forehead fades from sight.

And Kabuto doesn't bother to hide his insipid, cloying snicker, laced with false sympathy and smug triumph.

"And now," he strokes two fingers along the curve of her cheek before tucking her hair behind her ear, "she will begin to break."

**.**

.

.

**xii.**

It has been at least three weeks since the last time he saw her.

By his calculations, they have been here maybe five months.

There is no real day or night in these walls.

His room has three walls of double paned special glass to allow for observation, and an internal layer of thin and impossibly strong metal that can be retracted at will. The fourth wall is built like an airlock. Food deliveries – anything coming in from the outside – comes through there. He knows there is a complicated series of codes and machinery and barriers between his wall and the antechamber, and an even more complicated series of codes and machinery and barriers between the antechamber and the rest of the hospital.

No.

Not hospital.

Asylum.

The patients all dressed in thin, white cotton shirts and pants with no drawstrings and bare feet are all treated as being mentally unstable.

Given that over ninety percent of them are survivors of the last war, that is not an unwise precaution.

Kabuto's research is a curious mix of breaking and restructuring minds – pushing the patients to their limits and back again over and over and over until they either have a breakthrough or just break.

Sasuke can see the brilliance in the method, but the inhumanity of it all can't be overlooked.

Jugo is a valuable research subject, but they can't afford to have him become unbalanced. He is given a room next to Sasuke's, and there are multiple days where the visual divide between their rooms is removed, even as every other window remains dark.

"If you aren't going to let me in there with him, you need to figure out how to let my chakra reach him."

Kabuto eyes Sasuke suspiciously, but the other man does not blink.

"He needs more than just visual contact," Sasuke says in a tone that clearly tells Kabuto that this is obvious and the man should've taken it into account already – something that needles the medic and gives Sasuke no little pleasure. "He also needs time to meditate and gather nature energy – that is, unless, you want him to tear your facility apart."

Sasuke's warning is bland, but his eyes spark cold with challenge.

Kabuto knows that if Jugo frees Sasuke, the destruction of his hospital will be the least of his worries. To his dismay Jugo grows more restless, even with visual and aural contact with Sasuke.

Suigetsu – who proved to be a useless specimen for Kabuto's main line of research – is brought in.

"You will accompany him outside," Kabuto instructs as Jugo's chamber fills with a dense gas. When it clears, he is unconscious. Five orderlies quickly enter the room and activate his chakra repressors before hoisting him up on a gurney. "Keep him calm and monitor his progress."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Suigetsu snorts. "I can't keep him calm if he loses his shit, and I ain't about to stick around and let myself get killed if he does."

"Just accompany him," Kabuto narrows his eyes and agitation displaces a fraction of his customary calm. "My men will take care of the rest."

"Yeah, right," Suigetsu grumbles. "Hope you've said your goodbyes since you might not ever see them again."

"I'll take my chances," Kabuto says dryly.

"Whatever," Suigetsu shrugs. "It's not me that'll end up torn limb from limb. Any tips, Uchiha?"

Sasuke looks through the window and meets his eyes blandly.

"Don't get killed."

"Gee, thanks," Suigetsu mutters. "Hey, wait a minute," he looks around. "Why doesn't Karin do this? She used to work at the facility where they held Jugo, and she knows how to do this kind of shit, and –"

"Karin is indisposed," Kabuto cuts him off.

"Sure she is," he rolls violet eyes and sneers. "Slacker. Alright," he shrugs. "Let's get this over with. Might be your lucky day, Uchiha. If anything happens to me, you'll officially be the prettiest boy on the team. C'mon, Big Guy," he says to the prone and drugged form of Jugo. "Let's go get some fresh air."

Even with his arms fastened behind his back keeping him from transforming – at least until he is above ground – Suigetsu is in remarkably good humor.

Sasuke watches them go, and Kabuto never notices the glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

.

.

.

**xiii.**

They bring her down to him again.

Since that first time he has shown no response.

He sits perched on the edge of the bed, hands folded under his chin, elbows resting on his knees.

Kabuto figured out a way for his chakra to reach Jugo.

Sasuke figured out a way for his chakra to reach Sakura.

So he doesn't need to look at her (although can see her reflection, and is watching her carefully without appearing to) to know she is there.

She is, by all accounts, adjusting to her new quarters.

They have disabled her stove and kettle and oven, and wisely not given her any knives. Kabuto tells him that they have erased the concept of chakra from her mind, and that she has no idea about her capabilities. She is kept in a mundane routine and memory suppressants keep her from acknowledging the passage of time.

"We will ease her into her new life," Kabuto says, checking her vitals. "Eventually we will let her think days, even weeks, have passed. Part of the trick is to keep the circumstances consistent, but the perception of the flow of time obscured. She does not know if she has been here a week or a year; just that her neighbor Kin is kind to her, and she loves her job at the library."

Sasuke hides his anger at their using Kin.

It isn't a testament to the capabilities of the Oto kunoichi – it is a testament to how far they have altered Sakura's mind that she would let an old enemy that close to her, much less trust her.

It also tells Sasuke that Kin is expendable – because there is always the chance that Sakura will have a sudden or violent flash of memory and kill the woman on sight.

He wonders if Kin knows precisely how precarious her position is.

Perhaps that is why they chose her; she is diligent in making sure Sakura is well and often dosed with the various memory suppressants and sedatives that allow this charade to persist.

Her life literally depends on it

Apparently, the original set up would have had Kin and Zaku as both a couple and her neighbors. Unfortunately, during those first few months, Sakura tried to kill Zaku on sight.

Kabuto gloats about how they subdued her rage over the incident; Sasuke gloats in that they still won't risk her seeing or hearing of him for fear of retribution.

And he knows the fiercest part of her is beyond subjugation, no matter what they do, and that will be their fatal error.

It is only a matter of time.

.

.

.

**xiv.**

Karin is now one of the staff.

She holds no recognition for Sasuke, but retains some of her more useful memories, making her a worthwhile addition to Kabuto's research.

Kabuto is under the impression that Karin was, at the time of her capture, still enamored with Sasuke, and revels in that affection having turned to apathy.

Sasuke never bothers to correct him.

Kabuto is counting on Karin – should she recognize Sakura – categorizing the other woman as a rival or an enemy.

Sasuke never bothers to correct him.

He is certain that Karin's only loyalty at the start of this mission is to Sasuke, and that having broken that loyalty he has neutralized any threat. Instead she is put in charge of monitoring Suigetsu, and managing part of Jugo's care, and charting Sakura's progress.

He has no fear of the Sharingan, since they can reset the minds of any he might assuage.

Sasuke _definitely_ doesn't bother to correct him

So when they bring Sakura to him that time, and Kin presses her to answer - "Do you know him?"

"Know him?" she murmurs in return.

He remains perfectly still, appearing a flat shade of apathetic even as he concentrates on reaching out with his chakra. He both assures her and warns her not to respond – to not let on if she does recognize him this time.

He can tell by her own chakra that her conscious mind isn't aware of the contact.

"I…" she falters, her eyebrows twitching together.

Her hesitation lingers between them for the space of several painful heartbeats before she murmurs

"I'm not sure…"

And just when he might have sighed in resignation she adds:

"It's… annoying."

"That's alright," Kin and Kabuto exchange smug looks. "Go back to sleep, Sakura."

He can't help the twitch of his lips and the flood of pride that sluices through his veins.

She might not remember-

-but she hasn't forgotten.

.

.

.

**xv.**

Several more weeks roll by, and Suigetsu is still muttering when he brings Jugo back from the gardens. "I _told_ them not to get too close," he shrugs lazily as two gurneys glide by with the moaning bodies of battered henchmen. "Not my problem if they can't listen to instructions."

"And I suppose you did nothing, as usual," Zaku snorts.

"Look, it's like I told you," he rolls his eyes. "There isn't a fucking thing I can do if he flips his shit, and I'm too pretty to risk my good looks and you know, life."

"True," Kabuto watches the men go down the hall dispassionately. "You aren't strong enough. But," the light glints off of his glasses as Jugo is brought back into his room, "I know someone who is."

Suigetsu arches an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah, but you've got him locked up and under surveillance 24/7. How's that going to work?"

"Not him," the medic watches Sasuke. "Her."

"Her?" Suigetsu blinks. "Her who? Oh, no wait," he holds his hands up, bound in front of him this time. "You don't mean _her_ her, do you? Because, yeah, normally, she's way strong enough to handle Jugo, but don't you have these thingies on her somewhere?" he indicates his wrist. "How is any of her strength gonna help her if you've shut it off."

"How indeed?" Kabuto's eyes cloud darkly. "I suppose, then, it is in _everyone's_ best interest that Jugo be kept calm."

"A cat."

"A whowhatnow? Oh. It's you, Karin. I didn't recognize you when you weren't trying to trample me on your way to dry hump Sasuke."

It is a testament to what Kabuto has done to the woman that she makes no indication that she registered anything her former teammate has said.

"Get him an animal or two to keep him company," she is speaking to Kabuto, even if her eyes still retain a far-away look. "A cat is self-sufficient, and can be allowed in all areas of the compound, including the apartments, if you follow through with his transition."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Suigetsu's eyes grow huge. "You're gonna let the big dude to go the not-as-secure section of this looney bin? Do you _want_ people to die?"

"A cat." Karin repeats. "Two would be better."

"A cat," Kabuto muses. "Didn't you tell me there are two cats living in the gardens?"

"Yes sir," an orderly reports. "They have approached the patient several times, with no adverse effect."

"And do you think there was a benefit to this?"

"Hard to say," the orderly shrugs.

"Alright," Kabuto watches Jugo settle on his cot, facing Sasuke. "Round up the cats. If they survive the night with him they can stay. Who knows," he tilts his head as he considers. "This might prove to be useful."

.

.

.

**xvi.**

Jugo's cats become a common sight in the wards. They both go to the gardens with him, and are brought back at night. When Jugo stays in his apartment, the male cat comes back, looking for mice to hunt. Kabuto doesn't mind – it is easier for him if the animals are comfortable in all of the environments, therefore lessening the risk of their making Jugo uncomfortable. The cats are out of sight the first time Jugo meets with Sakura, and he remains calm. He is eventually allowed to stay in one of the apartments, although he is under heavy surveillance.

"Remember, Uchiha," Kabuto urges. "The only reason he isn't in the adjoining apartment, is I want to monitor him more closely. If he loses control, he is only two apartments down from her. He knows where she is, and he can find her. He can hurt her. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

Sasuke tightens his jaw but doesn't respond.

Kabuto's chuckle is light and cruel.

"I thought not."

But the first time that Jugo returns, he is calmer and happier than he has been. And one of the cats has stayed with Sakura.

Denka is so quiet and so fast, the staff quickly forgets he is there. That is how he manages to slip into Sasuke's room, under the cover of 'lights out' and with the delivery of his evening medication.

"How is she," Sasuke asks quietly.

"Confused," Denka allows. "Still drugged. Hina thinks it is the tea. Sakura still can't quite hear us when we talk."

"That is part of the suppression tactics," Sasuke frowns. "The brain believes things to be impossible, so it does not register stimuli it doesn't believe can happen."

"Hina speaks to her as she sleeps and won't let her out of her sight."

Sasuke gives a nod.

"We can get a message to her," the cat offers.

He is tempted, but in the end he sighs and shakes his head. It is still too risky.

"On my signal, you are to tell Jugo to go forward with the next phase of the plan."

"Roger," the cat agrees. The noise from just outside the hall tells him that the orderly is returning for the medicine tray. Sasuke puts them in place and steps back from where the barrier will form just as Denka curls in the corner and out of sight.

"By the way," the cat says, his eyes sly. "Hina says she whispers your name when she sleeps."

And that, Sasuke thinks when he finally lies down to rest, is a very good thing.

.

.

.

**xvii.**

Jugo shows his first signs of regression. He begins by appearing agitated and pacing in his room. He goes to the gardens in the middle of the night, and is wide eyed and confused. Denka runs to the infirmary and begins mewling loudly, sounding the alarm.

Suigetsu looks up from his sealed tank.

"Sounds like you guys have a problem," he says idly. "I'd bet Jugo's about to go apeshit."

"Then that means you have a problem," Zaku sneers, calling over the orderlies to arrange his release.

"Aw, man, are you kidding me?" he whines. "I thought that Pinkie Pie had that handled now."

"Yeah, well, she's drugged and asleep, so it won't do us much fucking good to put her up against Jugo if he blows his shit. So this time your ass is on the line."

"As usual," Suigetsu grumbles. "See, this is why it was better when I had no friends. I had more enemies, but at least all of the shit I got into I got into on my own. Maybe I need to be friends with civilians," he muses.

He doesn't have much time to ponder this as he is cuffed and yanked into the elevator and sent out after his friend.

"Alright, Big Guy," he holds up his hands placatingly. "Let's go back to our nice cozy cells and hang out for a while. Sasuke's been a real pain in the ass since you've been gone, and could probably use the company."

"Sasuke?" Jugo's voice teeters on the edge of reason, half of his face twisted into the monster that he could so easily become. "He's in trouble?"

"Well, I mean, no more than usual seeing as we're all being held captive," Suigetsu rubs the back of his neck, "but, yeah, I'm sure he could use a good chat."

"Alright," Jugo's eyes dart around wildly. "But only if they stay back."

"Oh. Yeah. Right." He turns to the orderlies. "You might want to step off a bit," he shoos them away. "Like give us a good twenty foot lead. Maybe thirty. The last guys that got too close ended up in full body casts."

"Sorry," Jugo mumbles.

"Oh, they were totally asking for it," Suigetsu assures him. "They were all 'oh-hey-look-at-us-with-our-chakra-suppressor-baton-thingies-we-think-we're-so-tough.' That was right before you sent them sailing over several trees."

"Will you just get on with it," Zaku scoffs.

But he doesn't get any closer.

Jugo bends over to scoop up Denka and follows Suigetsu back into the compound.

"Just remember," he says out of the corner of a toothy mouth, "If you really do flip your shit go after those other guys."

Jugo's gentle chuckle belies his half-transformed appearance.

"I will."

.

.

.

**xviii.**

Sasuke sits in meditation.

He is, for all appearances, completely unaware of the world around him.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Denka has given him Hina's report.

Sakura's chakra activated on its own and healed a fairly serious injury on her palm. Since that day, she has been leery of the tea they give her, and is throwing away medications.

It takes all of his self control not to smile as his heart notes,

"She is coming back."

This last time they brought her down, she could sense his chakra against hers – she understood his message.

"_Stay strong. It won't be long now."_

Denka managed to filch a handkerchief from somewhere. She'd always made fun of his old-fashioned habit of carrying one, but that didn't stop him. He'd laced chakra over the light square of cloth – a familiar signature that would resonate with hers and trigger memories of scent. (At least that was what she told him all those months ago.)

Denka gave the handkerchief to Jugo who later tells him that she slept with it clutched to her chest.

"I thought she broke," Denka admitted, having witnessed her confused breakdown when Jugo had offered only comfort.

"No," Sasuke shakes his head. "They can't break her. She is breaking free." And he is proud of her and he misses her, and he is worried for her, and he longs for her and he is confident in her, and he trusts her, and if this whole mission doesn't end soon, he is going to risk triggering every alarm in the building and go after her himself.

But he will wait awhile longer, and put his faith in his comrades.

Jugo's staged relapse finishes, and he is released to return aboveground. Surprisingly, it is Kin who urges them to hurry and send him.

"Sakura does better when Jugo is around," she explains. "She focuses more on the gardens and stays calmer. When he isn't around, she starts getting annoying real fast."

And Sasuke's ears pick up at that and he wonders if it is coincidence or a message.

He dares to hope it is the later, and that Sakura is on the edge of reclaiming herself.

He overhears the conversations of those that do not know he can hear, nor that he can read their lips, and from what he pieces together, both Sakura and Jugo are doing well.

Therefore he is genuinely shocked when the orderlies leave again with a wisecracking Suigetsu, and return with an unconscious one. He is placed in immediate stasis, and Jugo is brought in, his transformation out of control.

Apparently, Suigetsu just managed to inject a sedative into his friend before he was sent flying into the nearby pond. The orderlies dragged him out, and he managed to mutter "Well, fuck," before passing out.

The orderlies and Zuko rush to get him into his room, and to get them _out_ of his room just as the last of it begins to wear off.

Kabuto won't use the gas on him – he is too far gone. Instead he allows Jugo to see Sasuke, who notes that at least Denka isn't in the way of the carnage.

"Where is Sakura," he bellows. "Bring her to me!"

And Sasuke knows the first hints of real fear, then, for this does not feel like the other times. He isn't convinced it isn't intentional, but it definitely isn't totally in Jugo's control.

"Karin, go check on our aquatic friend," Kabuto suggests with a false concern and sweetness. "Zaku," he turns over his shoulder. "Go assist Kin in bringing down Haruno Sakura."

"What about that damned cat," Zaku grumbles. "It is always with her."

"Bring it," Kabuto shrugs. "It is used to Jugo – it might help calm him. But I suggest not getting too close," he eyes the scratches along the man's cheek. "Or were you and Kin playing to rough again?"

Fire spreads up Zaku's neck and over his face, and he leaves without a response.

"I'd attempt to calm him, Uchiha," Kabuto suggests. "Otherwise, your girlfriend might not survive the…intervention."

.

.

.

**xix.**

Hina won't leave Sakura.

"You're sure she had her tea?" Zaku watches the cat distrustfully.

"For the last time, _yes_," Kin hisses. "But drug her quick – I don't want to risk her waking up fully."

He pierces her arm with a needle, and they quickly transfer her onto the patient gurney. When Hina jumps up onto her lap Kin tries to shoo her away.

"Just leave it," Zaku keeps his distance from the cat. "Kabuto thinks it might help, although I don't know that anything is going to help that freak this time." He tightens the restraints on Sakura. "You should've seen him - his transformation has gone even further than the last time."

"Then why are we bringing her down?" Kin pauses, looking up from the restraints at her feet.

"He's asking for her," Zaku shrugs. "What's the big deal?"

Kin puts a hand on her hip. "You realize the reason that he's even allowed to see her, right?"

He shoves the bed forward forcing Kin to race ahead to open the doors.

"He needs to be outside and in nature – it keeps him centered," she jogs alongside the bed. "And there is no way they'll let _him_ outside. She's the only one strong enough to stand a chance if he flips his shit, and it gave _him_ motivation to keep Jugo calm – so he won't hurt her."

"That's some fucked up shit," Zaku rolls the bed into the elevator, and Kin keys in the code to descend to the lower levels.

"But why bring her down now?" she flicks a glance at Sakura and back to him.

And it dawns on her

"Kabuto," Kin's eyes are wide. "He's fucking with him. He wants to remind him that Sakura is at our – and Jugo's – mercy. Thinks he needs to be kept in line now and then, and she's the only leverage we have."

"Still seems pretty stupid to me," Zaku scoffs. "She's sedated and has the normal drugs in her system – what can she do if he goes after her?"

For the first time Kin hesitates.

"I don't know."

"Glad it isn't me," he crosses his arms smugly.

"Yeah," Kin gives an unconvinving smile. "Me, too."

They rush the gurney down the hall, past rooms and rooms of patients until a voice halts them.

"Ah, right on time." Kabuto pushes his glasses up his nose and eyes the prone form of the doctor greedily. "I see that she can just open her eyes now, but still can't move. Perfect."

He leans over and taps on the thick window. "Do you want to say goodbye?" he asks, cheerfully. "Or, perhaps, you'd rather watch?"

Sasuke remains disinterested at his tormentor, choosing instead to keep both eyes fixed on Jugo.

"Really, Uchiha, I thought you'd be more concerned," Kabuto taunts with a sigh. "Since you have been unable to help us subdue Jugo, I have to honor his request to see Sakura. It would be nice if she could move or mold chakra, but I'm going to give her just enough antidote to let her speak. Oh, and don't worry," he nods to Sasuke's unobstructed view of a now-raving Jugo, "I'll let you keep your front row seat."

"Karin," Kabuto snaps his fingers. "I'm going to have you bring her in."

"Karin?" Kin asks, just noticing the redheaded woman. "Isn't she with them?"

"Not for quite some time now," Kabuto dismisses the concern.

"Fucking with her mind, too?" Zaku snorts.

"The power of suggestion is formidable," Kabuto shrugs, and injects something into Sakura's arm.

"Karin. Take Sakura to the holding area outside of Jugo's room. In five minutes, the antidote will take effect. Before then, you need to have undone her restraints and exited the holding area."

The redhead moves robotically, eyes blind to everything but her assigned task.

"Karin doesn't even see _you_ Sasuke," Kabuto jots notes on a clipboard. "It seems even her ardent admiration can be easily subdued." He flicks the paper back and forth, comparing his notes.

"Unfortunately, the same can't be said for your little princess of a girlfriend over there. It took months of painstaking research to determine the right combination of drugs and nutrition and chakra inhibitors to combat her impressive biological systems. I think it was her regard for you that truly kept her strong. Once we managed to make her forget that, well, progress became much easier."

"Why."

"Well because she lost her anchor," Kabuto answers, eyes still on his paper. "The mind needs a tether to stay in reality. Once that is gone, well," he gives a sympathetic smile. "That is all there is to it. After that, we could change her environment and broaden the lie. We did not dare have her out of a full security ward before then. You should be quite proud; it took months to graduate her to the assisted living portion of the asylum."

"Why all of this."

The voice is cold and even. His eyes are on Jugo, minutes, maybe seconds from being fully transformed and alternating between glowering in a corner and raging in room. There is less than a minute left until there is nothing between Jugo and Sakura.

"Surely you of all people should understand this, Uchiha," Kabuto blinks. "To fully understand how something works, you have to examine it. Dissect it. Deconstruct it. Break it." His smile is pleasant but his eyes hold a gleam honed by obsession. "And that is precisely what I have done."

An alarm sounds sharply, and the door separating Sakura from Jugo slides away.

Sasuke has eyes for nothing and no one but the woman struggling to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Hina is shoving her head into Sakura's side, urging her to sit up, even as Jugo is noticing he isn't alone in the room.

The yellow of his eyes is eerily bright against the black sclera and grey-brown of his skin. This time his transformation has given him an extra pair of arms and claw like feet as well as wings.

Saskue narrows his eyes.

He has never seen Jugo take this configuration in a transformation, and he can't decide if that is a good or a bad thing.

Jugo crouches and growls low in his throat at the slow moving form of Sakura.

Sakura comes to sitting, and rests a hand on Hina's head.

"It's alright, Hina," she soothes her. "Jugo won't hurt us."

She looks up steadily at the beast in the corner.

"Will you, Jugo?"

Jugo is crouched, one set of knuckles walking fisted on the ground as he creeps closer to her, eyes narrow and focused.

Sakura holds out her hand and repeats

"Will you, Jugo?"

It takes all of Sasuke's control not to slam palms against the glass and tell her to run to tell him to get away from there to shout at Kabuto to stop this to use whatever reserves he can think of to break through the walls himself.

His muscles shake with the effort of restraint, and his Sharingan blazes red.

Jugo reaches out a massive, clawed hand, and Sakura catches it in both of her own.

He cocks his head to the side and furrows his brow. His words are disjointed by the shifted shape of his mandible, but they are intelligible.

"S..Sak-u-ra." He blinks. "You came."

"I promised," she gives him a smile. "And I learned a long time ago from a very good friend that you never go back on a promise. Isn't that right,… Sasuke?"

And she meets his eyes clearly, and he feels pride and relief and annoyance wash over him because he now understands precisely what is going on.

And before Kabuto can even think to react, Jugo has helped her to stand, and placed two of his gigantic hands on her shoulders, and the other two at her sides.

Sakura steeples her fingers, and her Byakugō no In blazes to life, and with the he lavender rhombus once again prominent on her forehead, black lines ricochet from the mark and wind across her face and down her limbs, and she glows a vibrant green with chakra.

Jugo's transformation remains, but his control returns.

Kabuto rushes to the control panel and punches the buttons for the gas suppression system.

"System Disabled," a mechanical voice intones.

"Impossible," his eyes are wide behind his glasses, and he enters the code again.

"System disabled," the voice repeats.

"Something wrong, Kabuto?"

"Shut up, Uchiha," he sneers. "I still have the upper hand as long as-"

"Emergency override activated," the voice pipes up. "Evacuation procedures initiated."

"What, NO!" Kabuto slams his fist against the wall as the command relays through each of the speakers. He picks up his tablet to flick through the security feeds. Orderlies in white uniforms have already mobilized, going from holding room to holding room to retrieve patients and evacuate them to safety.

There are no alarms on the other floors, for fear of triggering patients, but the calm message of a 'Code Green' has been received and heeded as the patients are bundled and prepared for transportation.

Part of Kabuto's operation is legitimate, and those workers have no connection to his more insidious objectives. To recall them now is to raise suspicion.

"I'll tell them it was a drill," he mutters to himself, trying to wrestle in the damage control.

It's the patients on this floor and the one above it that are a problem – those patients get evacuated to a separate location entirely, and once such a measure is in place it is impossible to stop.

Sakura looks over her shoulder at Jugo, her eyes dancing in impish question.

"Sakura," Sasuke warns, but Jugo calmly says

"Go ahead."

Sakura cracks her knuckles.

"Excellent."

And with less than a thought, and no preamble, she slams her fist into the wall.

Kabuto takes cover just in time, narrowly avoiding being trapped against the opposing wall by the entire pane of shatterproof glass. He crawls his way through the dust and debris, head spinning, just in time to see Sakura delicately pick her way over the crumbled wall to study the window, hands on hips.

"Not bad," she is unfazed by the chaos around her. "2 x 5? 5 x 2?" She looks over her shoulder at Jugo. "I always get the order of those mixed up. Probably about two meters tall, five meters long and a meter thick? Sound about right?"

Jugo shrugs.

"Hm," Sakura runs a finger over the glass, eyes trailing over the millions of tiny fissures that radiate from the point of impact into a complex spiderweb of carefully contained destruction. "Impressive."

With a smirk, she flicks a finger against the glass, and the entire thing collapses into a pile of shattered nothing.

"Now," she turns bright eyes to Kabuto. "Where were we?"

Kabuto struggles to his feet, and tries to run, but is seized by the back of his shirt and promptly punched squarely in the jaw.

"I've wanted to do that for months," Sasuke nudges the semi-conscious man with his foot. He turns to Jugo and Sakura "If you had waited five seconds, you could've walked out the door," he eyes her skeptically.

"What, and let you have all of the fun?" she sniffs. "Besides," she plucks one of the larger pieces of glass from the floor. "I wanted to get a sample of this stuff for the engineers back home."

"Only you would turn an escape from a months long mission into a shopping-slash-research trip," Karin grumbles, snapping the chakra restraints on Kabuto's wrists. "Help me get him up on the gurney, Fishboy."

"I seriously didn't miss that sharp tongue of yours," Suigetsu grabs Kabuto under the arms and hauls him onto the bed.

"And you are lucky you are just a clone, or I'd beat the hell out of you," Karin shoots back.

Sasuke arches an eyebrow. "A clone?"

"Yeah," he grunts before tossing Kabuto the rest of the way onto the bed. "When Jugo tossed me into the water I just stayed there until everyone left. I left the water clone – er – me – to go inside instead."

"So if you are a clone," Sakura frowns. "Where is the original?"

"You don't know?" Sasuke drawls, surprise tinting the sarcasm. "Wasn't this your bright idea?"

"Well, the whole Jugo-transforming-beyond-control-to-get-me-down-here thing was," Sakura admits. "I've not been taking any of their sedatives for a while now, and I was already chasing it out of my system when Kabuto gave me an antidote."

"Didn't keep you from sinking your teeth into me," Karin rubs her arm absently.

"Thanks for that," Sakura grins. "I did compensate by removing your chakra repressors."

"So when Karin went to go check on Suigetsu," Sasuke looks back to the other two members of his team.

"She actually went to fuck with the electronics," Suigetsu grins. "With a little help from yours truly. Water and electricity _really_ don't mix."

"So where is your original?" Sakura presses.

"Oh. He went to get us a ride home."

"A ride home?" Sakura cocks her head in confusion. "What do you mean a-"

The alarms blared and lights flashed red as the automated voice declared"

"Security Breach. Security Breach. Infiltration in the West Quadrant. Security Brea- East Quadrant- Secu-North Quad – South Quadrant Security-"

The automated voice devolves in a confused garble, before short circuiting entirely.

"Oh good," Suigetsu grins. "They're here!"

.

.

.

**xx.**

"For the last time, Naruto," Sakura sighs. "I'm _fine_."

"I'll believe it when we get you back to the village and Baa-chan looks you over," he retorts. "How is she looking, Ino?"

"Good so far," Ino's hand is hovered over Sakura's forehead.

"Those blocks you helped me put in place probably saved my life, Ino," Sakura says gratefully. "Thank you."

"Well, I couldn't risk my best friend not coming home, now, could I?" she replies, and although her tone is teasing, the relief in her eyes dispels any doubt that she had been very, very worried about her friend.

"We have to set up a med station," Sakura looks past Ino to Naruto. "We will need to evaluate the patients and if they can travel."

"Way ahead of you," Ino interrupts. "Tsunade sent Katsuyu-sama along with Shizune. You just rest for a minute, Forehead."

"The mission isn't over yet, Ino," Sakura scowls. "And until it is, I have a responsiblity to-"

"That's my student," Kakashi sighs, sauntering into the tent. "Always on task."

Although his posture is relaxed, his voice is warm when he says "It's good to have you back, Sakura."

"I still can't believe you okay'd this mission, old man," Naruto crosses his arms, his eyes harder than usual.

"I didn't really have a choice," Kakashi keeps his eyes on Sakura. "Sakura had already made up her mind that she was going – it was either offer support or nothing."

"Why did you do this, Saukra," Naruto turns those bright, blue eyes to her, and Sakura is reminded of the clearest of summer skies and the soaring hope that her friend inspires in all he meets.

"I had my suspicions that Kabuto was behind all of this," Sakura explains, "but I had no proof. And if we didn't know what research he was doing, we couldn't tell how to stop him. It was only by luck we discovered he was re-programing former soldiers."

"But why let him capture you," Naruto is desperate to understand.

"Because, Naruto," she puts a hand on his forearm. "As the one tasked with healing survivors of his treatments, I knew enough to know I was the one he'd try to break. I had to know how he did what he did so I could help the others."

The set of Naruto's jaw tells her he remains unconvinced.

"Kabuto is brilliant, Naruto. I couldn't undo his work, and believe me I tried. And despite the insidious nature of his work, his research afforded him a singular and comprehensive understanding of the workings of the mind."

"So you went through all of this – all of the stages of how he breaks people – just so you could help unbreak people?"

"That's one way of putting it," she gives him a crooked smile. "But it is more than just undoing things he's done, Naruto. The aftermath of the wars has affected soldiers and civilians alike – adults and children. Now I have a better way of understanding how to help them."

"This was insane, Sakura," Naruto puts both hands on her shoulders, and holds her gaze steadily before wrapping her in a hug. "Don't ever do something this stupid ever again," he holds her tightly. "I'm supposed to be the wild card of the team, and I'm not about to give up that place just because you want to go running around deconstructing evil genius plans, got it?"

Sakura breathes in the warmth and comfort and solidity that is her best friend, tears just brimming at the corner of her eyes.

"Got it."

.

.

Sasuke has reported to Kakashi, and Shizune is almost done with his initial assessment.

The real Suigetsu is sitting on a medical cot with Karin, both having already passed inspection. "So that's it, then?" Suigetsu asks, bored. "Orochimaru really is dead? This was all Kabuto?"

"Orochimaru is dead," Sasuke allows, "But I don't know that we can say this was all Kabuto."

"Why not?" Karin turns an apple over and over in her hands. "He definitely directed all of the research, and the facility had legitimate charitable funding. It is possible."

Sasuke doesn't offer an explanation – he just knows he senses another hand in all of this.

"Well, I'm just glad it's done," Suigetsu flops back on the cot. "Where is Jugo, anyway?"

Shizune answers without looking up from her work.

"Jugo has opted to be put into an induced sleep for the next twenty-four hours until we are sure his transformation hasn't left him unstable. As soon as he's done eating, Sakura will –"

"Wait, there's food?!" Suigetsu shoots up. "What are we wasting time here for? See ya, Uchiha – Karin, you coming?"

"You're impossible," she shakes her head.

"Yeah, yeah, and the real reason Kabuto had no problem getting you to 'forget' Sasuke is you're already over his brooding ass and have moved onto handsomer pastures."

He waggles his eyebrows and she tries to hide her flush.

"Don't remind me," she sighs, pushing past him and striding out of the tent.

"Yeah," Suigetsu smirks. "She loves me."

Shizune chuckles as the tent flap drops behind them, and the silence resumes.

"What is this about Sakura?"

Shizune keeps her face impassive, even if her eyes dance with amusement.

"It was a compromise," she jots a few notes on a clipboard. "Sakura stubbornly insisted on monitoring Jugo's progress, and Kakashi and I agreed. It was the only way we could be certain she would stay in one place, rather than running around the camp trying to assess all of the patients."

"Hn," Sasuke grunts, but there is amusement under the weariness.

"Kakashi arranged for you both to stay with Jugo. Yamato has created a structure just on the edge of camp, away from the chaos. Katsuyu is there with him already. Tenten is helping set up the seals even as we speak, and Hinata provided us one of the privacy filters the Hyūga created for the Kage meetings. This will minimize any external stimuli that could possibly disturb the patient."

"Still,"

-Sasuke pauses as she hands him back his flack jacket that completes his uniform-

"I'd make a point to keep things down… just in case."

Sasuke's features remain impassive.

"Noted."

He gives a polite nod and exits the medical tent, no doubt going directly to Sakura.

Shizune hides her smirk behind her clipboard, and pretends not to notice the flush creeping over the back of his neck and over his ears

.

.

"How is he?"

Sakura looks up from her seat next to Jugo and gives Sasuke a tired, warm smile.

"Fine," she puts down a basket. "His vitals are stable. He should be fine for the next twenty hours."

Sasuke's eyes grow dark as he looks over her, his Sharingan reflexively swirling to life.

"I'm fine, Sasuke," she says with a weary chuckle.

But she knows he has to be sure.

His Sharingan recedes, and he arches an eyebrow in confusion.

"Are you… knitting? With senbon?"

"Oh, that," she chuckles. "Something I picked up during my time with Kin. It's actually pretty soothing."

"And Shizune tells me she is apparently under the impression that you two are 'friends,'" he arches his eyebrow at her. "Is that part of her ruse?"

"That's my doing," Sakura sighs, leaning back in her chair. "It started out as a way to manipulate her, but the suggestion took hold. I suspect Kin hasn't actually had a friend before, and her subconscious is reluctant to let that go."

"And you've forgiven her?" Sasuke's voice is low and even.

"I'm willing to try it," she absently rubs her arm where the ghosts of old injuries linger in muscle memory.

"Sakura," Katsuyu pipes up. "You need to rest. There is warm food and bedding in the next room. I can keep watch on Jugo."

"That's alright, Katsuyu-sama," Sakura shakes her head. "I'll be fine-"

"Thank you," Sasuke interrupts her, putting both hands on her shoulders firmly. "We appreciate it."

Sakura looks up at him. "But really, Sasuke, it isn't a strain to-"

"Sakura," the pressure he puts on her shoulders is as close to saying 'please' as he is going to come.

"Fine," she gathers her things. "I'll be back later, Katsuyu-sama."

Sasuke lets her lead the way to where the hot soup is waiting for them both. They eat quietly, and with minimal conversation – both needing the solace of the familiar silences so long absent from their days.

When the last of the soup is gone, Sakura stacks the dishes, not needing to look up to know Sasuke is standing by her side.

Sasuke holds his hand out to her.

She takes it without question and he pulls her to her feet, wrapping her tightly in his embrace.

"Naruto was right," Sasuke murmurs into the soft pink hair. "This entire mission was a ridiculous idea."

"He'll be so glad to hear that you finally agree with him on something," she scoffs, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"We almost lost you," he counters, and his voice is low and heavy and filled with past sadnesses and no more room for loss. "Nothing is worth that."

"You were with me," she leans back to look at him. "When we stand together, there isn't anything or anyone that can stand against us. Although," she can't help the smile that tugs at her lips. "I'm betting Kabuto will think twice before messing with your little 'princess of a girlfriend,' again."

Sasuke snorts derisively.

"His first mistake was underestimating everything about that situation. Of course," his dark eyes catch and hold hers. "If he had realized exactly what kind of adversary he was facing, he never would have taken on my queen of a wife."

Sakura's smile blossoms slowly. "What about you? Think you can take me on?"

Sasuke glances at the timer counting down their medical leave. "Not sure," he shrugs one shoulder. "But according to that, we have twenty hours left to find out."

Sakura's laugh is swallowed until it is just a smile against lips almost too beautiful in a face her heart could never, ever forget.

* * *

_Wish I could do every day prompts, friends, but not going to happen this year. Your feedback is so appreciated! Thanks for reading!_


	7. Old Habits Die Hard

**Old Habits Die Hard**

* * *

"What are these?"

It takes her a moment to tear her eyes from her report, and when she does, she isn't sure what strikes her more – the expression on Sasuke's face, or what he is holding in his hand.

"I could be wrong," she ventures, "but from here, they look like sake bottles."

"Empty sake bottles," he corrects her.

"Empty sake bottles," she repeats with a shrug. "Mystery solved." She returns to reading her report, and taking notes in her distinctive hand.

"Why are they empty?" he asks.

"Presumably because someone consumed their contents," she replies, scanning the handwritten notes detailing the patient's last stay in the hospital.

"And who. Might've. Done. That?"

He punctuates each full stop with the dull tone of a sake bottle being placed in line on the gleaming wood.

The creak of leather tells her he has taken one of the seats on the other side of the desk.

She knows he is waiting for an answer, and he knows she is just as happy to let him wait.

"Sakura."

Her name hangs between them, heavy and final and filling the space between them with a subtle electricity.

The scratch of her pen stops.

She lifts green eyes in challenge.

"Yes, Sasuke?"

The rapid knock on the thick wood of the door is polite and succinct. "Dr. Haruno? I have your evening tea."

"Come," she says, never breaking eye contact with the man across from her.

The butler bustles in with his tray, but stops short at the sight of the sake bottles.

"Has Lady Tsunade been here?" he asks, eyes wide. "None of the staff informed me they showed her into the office-"

"She came earlier," Sakura interrupts. "We met in the study. That is where you found these?"

Sasuke slowly inclines his head.

"I am so sorry," the butler frowns. "We should have cleared that. Shall I replace the bottles, ma'am? I know no one else that drinks that brand."

"That is because no one else alive can stomach it," Sakura's lips twist into a dry smile. "Yes. Please take the bottles and see that they are replaced."

"And locked in the usual place," Sasuke adds casually. "Can't risk the staff poisoning themselves with that swill."

"Of course," he gives a polite nod, clears the bottles, and pours the tea.

Silence settles over them, each partaking in their own cup and thoughts.

"Tsunade is not supposed to visit here alone."

"She didn't. Shizune came with her. And you know I could never drink that stuff."

Sasuke's smirk is small.

"I have to be at Naruto's shortly," he replaces the tea things on the cart. "I won't be terribly late. Back by eleven at the latest."

"That is fine," she pours herself another cup. "I'll see you when you return."

He gives a solemn nod and the door clicks closed behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, when he is already several miles from home, she slides out the bottom drawer of the desk, and reaches behind the files.

And she can't help the feeling of satisfaction as her fingers wrap around the familiar bottle, nor the relief when she finally gives in to the gnawing need that has clawed at her all day.

She knows Naruto, and may have urged him to keep Sasuke in his company a little longer.

"At least until midnight," she mumbles, relishing in the familiar sensation of sake - a far superior brand to Tsunade's - gliding down her throat, and the warmth that blooms from somewhere inside of her to radiate through her limbs.

They each cope in their own way.

Each of them bury themselves in their work.

He is still searching obsessively for his brother.

She still drinks.

He watch-dogs her fearing a relapse and, refusing to lose her.

She keeps a careful eye on his health and his mental stability, refusing to lose him.

But they each fight and win and lose to their own demons each in turn.

But they will always return to one another.

And she doesn't know anymore if that is a good or a bad thing, but it is the certain thing.

It is habit.

And it is the one habit, she doesn't have the power to break.

* * *

_Went back and randomly picked up this prompt from ssmonth16 Day 3. After this I'm skipping back to Day 8...unless I finish another prompt first. Thanks for reading, friends!_

_ \- Giada_


	8. Lullaby

_Personal experience in this brief oneshot, set before Sasuke and Sakura return to the village._

* * *

**Shades of Konoha: Onyx and Jade  
****Lullaby**

* * *

The small village is remote even by local standards. Tucked away in a valley high in the mountains, the Fourth Shinobi War is the thing of rumors here.

The treacherous terrain and harsh winters have long kept the village isolated and safe - so much so that there has been no need to hire shinobi. Visitors and travelers are few and far between, and crime is practically nonexistent.

And so their arrival is met with surprise, but not suspicion, or recognition.

Sakura spends hours speaking with the the village healer, an old woman who teaches her the names and uses of the indigenous plants and herbs and fungi. In return, she mends a few bones and heals a few injuries, and checks the local children, who are fascinated by her green eyes and pink hair.

Two weeks into their stay, a villager stumbles into the old woman's cottage and begs on broken breath for her and Sakura to come quickly. One of the small, rare, merchant caravans that travels through the area has been attacked. No deaths, but multiple serious injuries, and a whole cart of goods stolen.

They are from a bordering territory, and their mother-tongue is rough and unfamiliar to Konoha ears.

"Rogue-nin," the old woman translates. "Sound-nin."

Sakura's eyes find his immediately, concern carefully tucked into the calm of her facade.

He shakes his head and dismisses the words as shadows of phantoms long buried, for the are no remnants of Oto.

He's made sure of it.

She and the old woman tend to the merchants as he checks the area.

When he returns, she is nearly falling asleep in the simple stew the innkeeper's wife has served, and the skin under her eyes is pale and purpled, and speaks of too many nights with too little sleep.

"Rest," he bids her. "I shall keep watch."

She nods dumbly and he stays just long enough to make sure she is asleep when he leaves.

The moon is dark in the night sky.

But the night has no secrets from one who has bathed in darkness and shadow, and neither does the small, rag-tag band of ninja that slides into the village.

He sees them long before he hears them, and he hears them long before anyone in the village is even aware of a threat.

He's faster than them, naturally.

He's faster than everybody.

Faster than everything except the speed of their stupidity.

As one releases a shockwave to attack him, the final pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

The merchants never said 'Oto-nin.' They said 'Sound-nin.'

They did not describe the alliance of the attackers, but their form of attack.

And he wishes he had made the connection sooner, for even though the fight was over before it started, the damage has been done.

There is a heavy silence as the enemy waits for the dust to clear, expecting to see him dead.

And it becomes more charged when they see him there, unfazed by it all.

And then the ear shattering screech rends the night the air.

They look around in terror, and Sasuke sighs.

"Now you've done it."

And if they had known fear before, it is nothing compared to what bolts down their spines as electricity before sluicing into their veins as ice.

She speaks quietly.

Menacingly.

And punctuates each word with a full stop.

"Who."

"Woke."

"My."

"Baby."

Wordlessly, Sasuke takes the sniffling infant from her arms and into his own.

The tiny child burrows into his warmth even as her mother rolls up her sleeves and her father suppresses a smirk.

And their daughter falls back asleep, lulled by her father's gentle hum, and the sound of the earth crumbling under her mother's fists.

* * *

_If you think it is an overreaction to decimate anyone that wakes up a sleeping baby, you've never been a sleep deprived parent. Wake the baby and I will end you. Twice. - GL_


End file.
